


Afterwards

by Dreams_of_Spring



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Boat Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Foreplay, Jonerys, Light Angst, POV Daenerys, POV Jon Snow, Romance, Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 80,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreams_of_Spring/pseuds/Dreams_of_Spring
Summary: COMPLETEBasically, a smut-fest from the boat to White Harbour, up to Winterfell, into the Great War and beyond.Post season 7 imaginingsPre-season 8 hypePost season 8 comfort





	1. Chapter 1

Alright, I'm listening

 

 

Afterwards, they lay close together, breathing quietly. She could just about feel his hot breath fan across her neck and down her back. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Both still very much awake, their shallow breaths punctuated the otherwise quiet room. As the silence stretched on, the small gap between them began to feel like a chasm. Their minds raced. Was he going to spend the night? Did she want him to? Neither dared to speak. Neither wanted to say something that might damage this newly forged… alliance? But they _had_ to discuss what had happened. To fall asleep without talking would make it so much worse come morning. In the end, their stalemate was broken by a gentle knock on the cabin door.

 

Daenerys heard Jon take a sharp intake of breath and then felt him move as if he’d turned towards the door. After another, slightly louder, knock the bed dipped as he pushed himself more upright. _He’s worried they’ll just walk in and discover us together._ Daenerys smiled. She understood his reaction, however she remained quite calm. While she maintained a very open and relaxed relationship with those around her, she knew no one would dare enter her private chambers unless they were given direct instruction from her. Without looking back at him she rose naked from the bed and retrieved her dress from where it had been discarded on the floor. Gracefully slipping the garment over her head she walked towards the door, grabbed the brass handle and pulled it towards her.

 

Jon watched as she greeted the visitor, his heart thumping against his chest. From his vantage point on her bed he was unable to identify which of her trusted advisors was stood on the other side. They only spoke for a few moments before Daenerys reached her hand through the gap and brought back a small roll of parchment. She glanced at it briefly before slipping it carefully into a pocket in her dress. She dipped her head slightly, as if in thanks, then pushed the door shut again, her hand resting on the brass handle for a further beat. Jon heard her take a long deep breath, watched her shoulders slowly lift, and before he could prepare himself, she had turned towards him. _Oh_ , he thought as they faced each other once more, _last time I looked into your eyes, I was inside you_. At this memory he felt such a mixture of emotions he could scarcely breathe, let alone form words.

 

Daenerys felt equally as mute as she stood opposite the man who had, just moments ago, intimately, _expertly_ , explored her body. Her breathing quickened and her eyelids became heavy as she allowed herself just a moment to think of all the things he had done to her. _What do I say after you brought me to my knees with want and made me beg for all you could give?_ _How do I go back to being your queen when what I want is to kneel before you and ask for more of the same?_ She forced herself back to the present, back to her cabin, back to the place where she was stood, rooted to the spot. She felt confident in her assumption that his mind had also been wandering from his very apparent arousal. Her whole body tightened instinctively and her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she attempted to relieve some of the tension that had built within her. He had come to her cabin knowing exactly what he wanted. And he had taken it. He had taken her. _And now what?_ He was sat in her bed, naked, looking at her in such a way she felt totally and completely bare. Like he could see through her dress, through her skin, right in to her soul. Jon Snow was sat in her bed, naked, and she could not understand why she wasn’t already back there with him.

 

She crossed the room in a single heartbeat. _This time_ _I will come to you._ She knelt on the bed next to him and pressed her lips to his. A soft sigh escaped her as they seemed to pick up where they had left off, exploring each other, enjoying each other. Her fingers travelled along his arms, swept over his shoulders and continued up his neck. Eventually they settled in his hair, gripped two handfuls of dark curls tightly, and encouraged his mouth to come fractionally closer to her own.

 

In return he wasted no time bringing their bodies closer. Wrapping his hands around her waist he lifted her easily into his lap so that she straddled him. Her knees nestled into the bed either side of him, her behind rested comfortably on the bed between his thighs. They stayed like this while she continued to gently assault his mouth. Growing impatient to once again touch her naked body, he smoothed his hands down her hips, around her backside and then along her thighs searching for uncovered flesh. His touch caused her to squeeze her legs together making Jon groan into her mouth as the memory of the last time she squeezed his body like that flashed in his mind. Renewed desperation sped up his movements and when, at last, he reached her knees he found the exposed skin he’d been searching for. Firmly gripping the hem of her dress he began to work it backwards, inching it higher, retracing his previous journey along her body. The skin on her thighs prickled as it became exposed to the cool cabin air, followed by her behind, then her back. Reluctantly, she pulled her mouth away from his and raised her hands above her head, which allowed him to quickly rid her of the only thing that had separated them. He threw the silken garment off to the side and returned his hands to her body, resting them finally on naked skin. Panting, they sat face to face. Their ragged breathing caused her nipples to brush repeatedly against his chest and the little nubs to harden.

 

Her insides clenched with need as time seemed to stop. “Please,” one of them finally cried out, the first words spoken in what felt like an eternity of silence. Daenerys raised herself up onto her knees and Jon dragged her body even closer. Like a well practiced dance. He tore his eyes from hers to brush his lips reverently down between her breasts, turning to kiss each mound softly before resting his forehead against her sternum. He looked as if in prayer. Instead, she knew he was preparing himself for the sweet bliss that awaited. As his hot breath scattered rhythmically across her body, Daenerys moved both her hands to the base of his neck and clung to his damp curls. Finally, she sank into his lap. Her eyes fell shut as his rigid shaft stretched and filled her. She raised herself up almost immediately then came down on to him once more, this time taking him all the way to the root. Her walls clenched tightly around him and she smiled blissfully at Jon when he lifted his head, eyes wide and locked onto hers, desperation etched deep within them. And then, his quiet voice broke through the silence.

 

“Before,” he rasped, looking straight into her eyes. “After we…” his voice trailed off but Daenerys’ insides had tightened again at the mention of _before_. Jon groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, his hands that had been resting atop her thighs now gripped her tightly, his teeth clenched together. Breathing in deeply he forced himself to refocus, to get the words out before he gave in and just took her. Gently, he reached up and tucked a lose strand of her silver hair behind her ear, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw before finally, he continued, “I didn’t know what to say when we… or even after. It’s not … easy for me to find the right words to explain how I feel. Sometimes I think even with a thousand lifetimes I wouldn’t be able to find the right words.” Stopping only to collect himself, to press his forehead against hers, he kept on, “how you make me feel when I’m inside of you, how you make me feel when you look at me... What I’d do to make you happy, to see you smile because of something I said or did. To trust my council above everyone else’s.” He sighed deeply. “Using words, I can never be certain, can never _ensure_ you know without a shadow of a doubt, what it is I feel for you _._ ” He kissed her then. Once. Gently sucking on her bottom lip as he pulled away. “But when I’m with you like this, I am certain that my body is able to _show_ you these things. I can tell you so much more with my body than I could ever hope to with words. I want to love you... and not stop… not until you are utterly spent, exhausted. And still I’d keep going. Only then do I think you might begin to know, truly, what I feel for you, what I’d do for you. How totally _weak_ you make me feel when you glance my way.”

 

For a second, Dany remained perfectly still. If she wasn’t able to hear her own heart beating, pulsing loudly in her ears, she might have believed it had stopped all together. She thought she was breathing rapidly until she came to the sudden startling realisation that she wasn’t breathing at all.  _Breathe_ , she willed herself, _for gods sake you must breathe_. For the briefest of moments she thought she might actually pass out.

 

Jon watched her eyes change and saw her breathing falter. He felt her body, previously wrapped tightly around his, go slightly limp. Her hands released his hair and dropped to her sides. All this made him smile, a shy sort of smile. _Good_ , he thought as he took the time to savour the feeling of their entwined bodies, _it’s not just me who goes a little weak over you then!_ He moved one hand slowly down her side and curled it around her waist. The other moved down her back and curved under her backside, gripping it tightly. He carefully lifted her up until he had almost unsheathed himself and then, with barely a moments hesitation, he brought her back down to him in one quick and unforgiving movement. Relief flooded him as he heard her softly mewl, watched her head fall forward and felt it rest on his shoulder. “Come on” he whispered gently in her ear as he began to lift her body up and off him again. This time when he brought her down she moved her hands to grip his biceps, taking anchor as he invaded her body yet again. “Come back to me” he commanded, louder. The third time he pushed into her, she lifted her forehead off his shoulder and looked directly at him as a deep, ragged moan escaped from between her lips. _There you are_ , he said with a slight raise of his brow and a hint of a smirk touching his lip, _where did you just go?_

 

Daenerys saw the flicker of amusement turn instead to that of concern as he waited for her response. She felt slightly embarrassed that she had allowed herself to get so overwhelmed. Hoping to provide some measure of reassurance, Daenerys took control once more and started to guide him backwards, one hand placed firmly in the centre of his chest. He kept his eyes fixed on hers the entire way down until his back was pressed flat into the mattress. _Now it’s my turn to make you see that whatever it is you feel, I feel it too_. And with that, she began to rock her hips. When he tried to bring his hands back to her body she caught them and moved them far away, above his head. _No touching!_ He looked directly at her as he reached up and gripped the wooden headboard instead. Next he pressed his head back into the sheets, pushed firmly up into her, then settled back with a soft groan. _I am yours, do your worst,_  he seemed to say silently, with the hint of that shy smile back on his lips _._

Daenerys allowed herself to admire his body, laid out below her. Her eyes moved slowly, taking in the tangle of hair, the sheen of sweat, his chest moving as it rose and fell with each ragged breath. She looked until looking was no longer enough, then she began to move. When she needed leverage, she pressed both hands against his chest. When she needed sensation, she explored her own body, cupping, squeezing, rubbing. She rode his body right up to the point of sweet release then stopped and waited for it to abate. She did this over and over, again and again, until he looked as if he might go mad. Then she slowed, pressed her chest and lips to his, and kissed him softly. Studying his face for a beat, she revelled in his frenzied appearance before she finally spoke. “Many times I have felt a man move deep within me,” she whispered against his parted lips, causing a growl to escape from within him. In a blink, his hands were on her backside pressing her firmly down onto him. His actions told her one thing. _You. Are. Mine_. She smiled triumphantly, and provided him a few short moments of comfort from her lips. She then pulled back once more and continued, “I have felt lust and love for men before. My husband, my lover.” Again, anger appeared to surge within Jon at the mention of other men, but she gently begged him, _wait_ , _hear what I have to say._

So he waited, replaying the last few weeks in his head. Their first meeting, the cave, their first goodbye, the reunion which followed. The pledge she had made to him as tears rolled off her cheeks and dropped onto their entwined hands. Her face after he pledged himself to her. No one had forced her to come to him. She had not been sold or traded to him. She was under no obligation to let him enter her cabin tonight, much less enter her bed, enter _her_. But she had. Her choice. And she had been his partner, his equal, in everything they had done. Jon tried to concentrate on how utterly she currently consumed his body. Their faces were so close he could see nothing but her _._ Their chests stuck together, slick with sweat. _From our love making._ His cock was still buried deep within her. _She holds every part of me, my head, my hand, my cock. My heart?_ “Alright” he finally breathed out, his anger abating somewhat. “Alright, I’m listening.” And with his willing surrender, she started to speak once again.

 

“The first man I loved, Drogo, died in my arms just after our child was born… after our child was stillborn” she corrected quietly. “I wept as I said goodbye to the life I would never get to share with them. I climbed into the flames of the funeral pyre knowing I would emerge, unburnt but changed forever. That was the night my dragons were born. That night I did become a mother.” At the mention of her dragons she stopped and smiled and it made his heart squeeze and beat hard against his chest. “I had a lover warm my bed for a time in Meereen... and I enjoyed him. But when I told him that I was leaving, that I was sailing here and he would not be… I truly felt nothing.” Sighing deeply she readied herself for the last part of her confession. “Westeros… Drangonstone… they are so filled with my family’s history, famous Targeryan history. I’ve heard about it my whole life. I was raised on it. I felt it as I took my first steps in this land, but every step I took further, further up the beach, just felt hollow and meaningless. But you … _you_ changed that. You carry with you such a steadfast, unwavering purpose. I didn’t truly see it until you left. Until you wished me _good fortune_ and then walked away. It hurt me, thinking you may not return. Suddenly my life here held a different meaning, one it hadn't before. Because suddenly I was more than a piece in game, I had more to lose than a stupid iron seat. Now I want to survive because I want to _live_. To have a life. I let you in here tonight because the men who have come before you made me feel for them with their promises and with their cocks. You managed to turn my world on it’s head, to bring me to my knees, without either. You stood opposite me and you challenged me, you openly refused and denied me. You walked away from me and I thought of no one and nothing else until I had you back within my sights again. And I…” but before she could say anymore, he cut her off with a searing kiss.

 

He had listened and he had waited. And now he wanted to make it clear, unequivocally, who shared her bed tonight. He sat up and rolled her over, pressing her back into the bed. Sitting on his heels he looked down at where their bodies met, where they connected. Then, almost unconsciously, he reached down and ran the tips of his fingers across their joined flesh, brushing between his sex and hers. “Do _you_ want to know why I came here tonight? Even though the voices in my head were screaming at me to turn around and go the other way, reminding me that every minute we sail brings us closer towards war and death and uncertainty.” _Yes_ , her eyes begged him, _yes, tell me, please_. “Because I had to,” he said simply, looking straight at her. “Because I didn’t want to spend another second not knowing, another second wondering if you felt the same way”. He absentmindedly traced his fingers up and down her thighs as he allowed his words to sink in, With every brush of his fingers she became slicker and slicker. “I want to fuck you now,” he said bluntly, continuing to hold her gaze. Daenerys took a steadying breath and just nodded before closing her eyes. As her head fell back, a smile spread across her lips. “Finally”, he heard her breathe out.

 

He brought one leg up to his shoulder and drove into her until he felt her insides tremble, heard her desperately cry out. He flipped her onto her stomach as if she weighed nothing, dragged her backside high into the air and entered her from behind before she’d even managed to raise herself up onto her elbows. After several long drawn out minutes of taking her like this he sat back on his heels, reached down and pulled her top half up off the bed, her back pressed tight to his chest. From this position he reached his right hand between her legs and seemed to make it his mission to drag every possible sensation out of her with both fingers and cock.

 

He held her tight as she came and kept a tight hold of her while she tried to lift herself up and off his intruding shaft. This caused her to let out a loud, long, frustrated moan but not a single word crossed her lips. She could have told him to stop a thousand times. One word and he’d have released her in an instant, she knew. But it was just her body, too overloaded with sensation, begging for some let up. Her mind however, was rejoicing. _He may look small but Gods he is strong._ One of her hands was wrapped tightly around his wrist as he rubbed and circled and explored her quivering flesh – she would drag it away and then almost instantly bring it back, press it harder against her sweet spot. Her other hand was up, behind her, tangled in his hair, guiding his mouth to hers for frantic kisses that stopped only when air became necessary. The room was filled with the sounds of their body’s, moving against one another, with panting and moaning and desperate gasps for breath.

 

They fell forward together, her cheek pressed into the sheets, sweaty strands of hair spread in every direction across the bed. His front still stuck tight to her back. His right hand continued to explore between her legs while his left trailed gently along her arm, outstretched above her head. Finally his hand found hers, tightly clutching a fistful of sheets. He burried his nose in her damp trestles of hair causing each shuddering breath to be filled with the scent of _her_. Pulling back his hips slowly he felt her suck in a lungful of air then hold her breath as she prepared for the next onslaught of sensation, but he pressed into her slowly, filling every inch of her insides without a hint of haste. Then he repeated the action, ever so slow and steady.

 

She let him do it once more to make sure before she spoke, loud enough and clear enough so that he would most definitely hear. “I want to think about _this_ , about _you,_ in every movement I make tomorrow, in every step I take aboard this ship. When the Queen's council meets tomorrow evening I want to have no choice but to stand for the duration. I know what you want to do to me and I want you to do it too, I _need_ it too. Am I making myself clear enough for you, Jon Snow?” Jon’s response was simple, but it was all she wanted to hear. “As you wish, _my_ Queen.”

 

This time, as they came down from their climax, they stayed wrapped together, no gap, no space. Close. He kissed the top of her head and found one of her hands, linking it with his. She moved her feet to tangle with his somewhere under the furs that covered them and pressed her behind back into the perfect space his body created for her. Their heartbeats and breathing began to slow as sleep overtook them both. And then, all of a sudden, she was moving away. “I almost forgot,” she muttered sleepily as she reached out and grabbed for her crumpled dress, “a raven came for you.” Finally locating the pocket hidden in the folds of the fabric she pulled out the scroll she had been given earlier. “It’s for me?” he asked, wondering briefly if all his correspondence were given to the Queen first _._ Daenerys passed it over with a little nod, curling herself back down next to him and closing her eyes again. “Missandi said it was a large raven that brought it, from Winterfell. She thought the message looked bigger than usual, felt heavier too. She was worried it might be important and didn’t want to delay it reaching you.”

 

While Jon listened to her explanation he was unable to take his mind off one thing. “Wait,” he finally forced out, “Missandei knew I was in here with you?” As he waited for her response his face grew strangely hot. _How stupid to have worried about being seen when it seems everyone knows I’m in here anyway._ His racing thoughts were slowed as Dany turned in his arms and looked up at him with a soft look in her eyes. “Jon,” she started, then hesitated for a moment, “Missandei comes to me every night to help me undress… bathe… talk through the days events. I suspect she came earlier and quickly realised that I already had someone to help me undress this particular evening.” At this small attempt at humour she smiled up at him, adding, “it wouldn’t have been difficult to guess what was going on in here. We weren’t exactly quiet.” He thought about what she’d said for a moment, wondered whether he actually cared if Missandei knew about _this_ , whether he cared if the whole kingdom found out, and decided that surprisingly, in this moment at least, he _didn’t_. As long as he had her at his side, then he didn’t care who knew. The frown gradually faded from his face and a smile tugged at one corner of his lips at the realisation. He slowly leaned over her and pressed a very deliberate kiss against Daenerys’ own smiling lips. Reaching past her he placed the scroll on the small wooden table next to the bed then stretched out a little further to the last lit candle, his thumb and index finger extinguishing the flame. As dark settled around them, he settled them into the furs and wrapped his arms around her now slightly chilled flesh before his eyes closed once more.

 

“Don’t you want to read it now?” She queried, a hint of surprise in her voice. “No,” came his steadfast response through the darkness, “whatever it might be it can wait until sun up. I wish to enjoy the feel of you in my arms because I am certain, come morning, we will have yet another  _thing_ to worry about. Tonight we keep for ourselves.” And with that, she felt his lips softly press into her hair one last time, heard him take a deep breath in, let it out, then felt his body settle down to sleep. "And anyway, what difference can it possibly make while we are all the way out here at sea?" He murmured like an afterthought, causing Daenerys to ponder as she drifted off to sleep, what possible news the note from Winterfell held.


	2. Chapter 2

Not the Dothraki Way

 

 

The heavy drapes that covered the windows muted the dawn but Jon awoke, as he always did, just as sunlight began to appear over the horizon. It was a difficult habit to break after a lifetime of being expected to wake up, get up and get on with the day. Never a moment to pause and enjoy the feeling of sleep wear off and wakefulness take over. Not this morning though. For the first time in his life Jon lay awake, but with his eyes closed, as he tried to hold onto the darkness for just a few minutes more. Today, Jon was in no hurry for night to be over or for the realities of day to be thrust upon him. Last night there had been not a doubt in his mind that he had made the right decision. Now though, as he lay there, he was more uncertain than ever.

 

The ship was large and well-built but it creaked and groaned like all great vessels. The sounds of crew moving about above was faint and had been present all through the night. Without them, he could have easily believed that he was somewhere else entirely, in a place far away from impending war and death. The women who currently lay beside him, pressed tight to his side, was with him too. There, no one dared question their union. No one thought him not _good_ enough, not _worthy_ enough, to claim her. As his thoughts turned again to the realities of this life and not the one of which he dreamed, his stomach knotted, a feeling not all together unfamiliar with him. _Bastard_ of Winterfell. He had had many titles since then, more than he could count. Given to him in mocking jest behind his back, given to him in honour by noblemen. But that one would always be the first. The one he could never shake off or outrun. That was _his_ history. _Bastard_. He shook his head slightly as if he could shake the word away. He chose to keep his eyes closed for just another minute more. For he knew, once he opened them and accepted this new day had truly begun, then he would also have to accept that this was likely to be the last morning he would wake with Daenerys Targaryen beside him. For he was a just bastard and she, a Queen.

 

 _Gods I’m hot_ , she thought as she awoke, swiftly unsticking her cheek from the warm expanse it had been pressed against. As she stretched her legs out in search of a cool piece of mattress she straightened her arm, allowing fresh cabin air to filter under the furs and provide some relief to the rest of her naked flesh. Daenerys barely spared a thought as to why she was quite so warm this particular morning. It was only after she brought her arm and face back to rest atop naked flesh and heard a faint sigh above her head that reality struck. Her eyes immediately flew open and there before her was the view of his naked chest, the pale-as-ice expanse perfectly masking the fire that she could feel within him. Slowly raising her head and turning it upwards her thoughts began tripping over themselves as they ran away from her. One stayed still just long enough to catch, and caused her heart to thump nervously against her chest. _What happens now?_

 

He felt her wake, her breathing had been slow and steady and something for him to focus on so he noticed the change instantly. No sooner had it altered, she was moving every part of herself away from him. He held his breath and lay perfectly still, crippling doubt taking hold of him. _This is it. Over, just as quickly as it began_. Suddenly though, she moved back, pressed herself into him once more. Reshuffling her limbs, she tried to get comfortable again. Jon let out the breath he had been holding, louder than he’d expected. Then she really did freeze. _Alright_ , _now it’s over_. The seconds she remained still felt like the longest seconds of his life. Then he watched as her head slowly, cautiously, began to tilt up towards him. Just as he sensed her eyes searching for his, he turned his face down towards her. Their gazes met, breaths passed from between one set of lips and into the other. He swallowed nervously and less than a heartbeat later, so did she. _Whatever happens, she is still my Queen_ , he reminded himself, as he tried to think of what to say to her. And then there was no need. Daenerys promptly leaned forward and covered his mouth with her own, her tongue pushing forward in search of his. Jon’s racing mind calmed in an instant and his body slowly began to relax again. He moved his hand to run up her back and wound it into her silver hair. When she pulled back from him she dipped her head and pressed a kiss to his chest before resting her chin a top the spot they had just touched. “Good morning,” Daenerys whispered, smiling up at him with sleepy eyes. “Good morning”, he rasped, as an odd hopeful feeling began flooding through him, filling every crevice of his body.

 

“I thought I had accidentally fallen asleep next to a furnace when I awoke,” Daenerys teased, her voice slightly croaky from sleep. Still beaming, she settled herself back down into his side. “You were clearly built for surviving in the North, Jon Snow.” Below her cheek his chest rippled as a hoarse laugh escaped. “Yeah, well, you run on hot or die up there,” he responded, the fingers of one hand beginning to dance up and down her arm. “And I spent last night in bed with a dragon, so there is that.” At this, he moved out from under her, turned onto his side and shifted down the bed to join her, his head resting on the pillow opposite hers. The smile he wore covered every inch of his face. “What a wonderful sight to behold. Jon Snow looking, dare I say, relaxed,” she stated truthfully, enjoying the look of pleasure her words provided him.

 

He responded by moving his hand under the blankets, lightly touching every inch of skin he could. The curve of her waist, the plane of her stomach, the underside of each breast and the circles around her nipples. As his exploration continued, Daenerys watched his face closely, noting the moments when excitement and arousal flittered across his features. Her heart squeezed when she noticed traces of nerves. _Is he still not comfortable with this_? When he reached her backside, he gently edged her body towards him, before pausing, a conflicted look crossing his face. “Go on,” she encouraged, but he made no move to continue. Reaching her right hand up to rest on the side of his face she brought her lips to join his. At the same time, she slowly slid her right leg up until it was hitched at his side, her centre lined up with his now rigid shaft. “God’s, Daenerys,” he breathed out as she brushed briefly against him. “The thought of being buried inside you again…” But before he had time to finish she reached down between them and took him firmly in her hand. “When are you going to see, Jon Snow _,”_ she rubbed his swollen head up and down the cleft between her legs, “that you can spend every single night inside me if you wish to. In fact,” she paused, looking at him mischievously as she whispered, “I’ll encourage it.”

 

Exhaling, Jon ran his hand up and down her right thigh contemplating his next move. Finally, he slid it up past her hip to her lower back, where he pressed her closer. Nose pressed to hers but eyes averted, he spoke quietly, “you shouldn’t say things such as that.” Her reply was instantaneous, her face indignant, “such as what?” It pained him to say it out loud, but he felt in this, clarity was necessary. “You shouldn’t speak of  _this_  continuing with such ease. _This_ is anything but easy.” Daenerys looked slightly taken aback for a second but quickly collected herself. Forcing him to look at here with a finger wedged under his chin she spoke with the same authority she used during war councils. “In this life, I have yet to make a promise I have not kept, and do not intend to start today. You are not in my bed, naked, with your prick between my thighs because I had a moment of weakness, because I had an itch that needed scratching. If what happened last night wasn’t exactly what I wanted then you’d never even have made it through the door.” Daenerys stopped before adding, “and the only reason you won’t spend each and every night in my bed is if you, and you alone, choose not to.” She had fire in her eyes. He felt like he’d just been scolded and it irritated him. _How can she possibly understand?_ “Dany,” Jon began, his heart hammering in his chest. “I spent my life being reminded, constantly, not to _ever_ overstep my boundaries. I was raised with very real limits on where I could stand, who I could speak with, when I could show my face. A Lord’s son, with none of the luxuries afforded one. I was not raised believing that one day I would be Lord of Winterfell, or Warden of the North. Much less King in the North! Even _stood_ in your presence I still sometimes feel uncomfortable and it’s a habit I’m struggling to break. Forgive me for not yet thinking that I have the right to share your _bed._ Now, or on any other night yet to come.” Calming somewhat, he held her gaze.

 

He had spoken so honestly and, in truth, sometimes she did forget his past. Perhaps she would also never truly understand it since the man who shared her bed had come to her, stood before her, and declared himself a King. Who he _had been_ seemed insignificant now. And yes, any man who held the North would make a powerful ally, but had it been anyone else then that certainly did not mean a different man would now be in her bed instead. In truth, Daenerys saw so much of herself in Jon Snow that it frightened her. But she was not ready to tell him that yet. She thought for a long moment before she came up with what she hoped was an appropriate response. “I have no doubts that I am not the first woman you have shared a bed with Jon Snow, but hear me when I say this, I hope I am to be the last.”

 

While their first time was tentative and uncertain, their second had been explosive and explorative. This time, when he slid into her, all he wanted to do was worship her. She flinched when he reached the hilt and he smirked, muttering under his breath, “well, you did ask for it.” They remained on their sides, relishing in their new but ever-developing closeness. His arm rested along her thigh and his hand confidently rested on her behind as he helped rock her hips back and fore in a maddeningly slow rhythm. It gave just enough friction for her pleasure to build steadily and for his balls to gradually start to tighten in preparation for release. The world could crumble around them and he was sure, neither would notice. When she got close to her release, her eyes began to flit shut. Desperate, quiet moans slipped from her lips and her chest became increasingly flushed. He could stay there forever and just watch her. And then, out of nowhere, she came. Hard. Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, her raucous sounds filled the cabin. He felt her fingernails dig deep into his bicep, her thigh muscles quivered under his forearm, the heel of her foot pressed firm into his behind. It was so unexpected, he stopped just to observe as she slowly came down from her climax. She looked wrecked. She looked like the most perfect creature he’d ever seen.

 

When Daenerys became aware that her unexpected climax had robbed Jon of his own, she began to move herself against him once more but pain stopped her in her tracts and she had to pull her lower half away from him. His cock slipped out from between her very tender folds, stiff and still ready for more. The whispered reminder before he’d taken her this morning ran through her head, ‘ _well, you did ask for it’_. And he was right, the tenderness of her sex was entirely down to her own request during the night. _I know what you want and I want it too. Hard_. Quickly realising that he would not be able to find his release between her legs, she decided to try something she had been thinking about for a very long time. Looking up into his now slightly concerned face, she asked teasingly, “do you trust me?” Serious features rerurned once more as he responded. “With my life.”

 

Jon stared as she pushed herself onto her knees and obeyed when she quietly instructed him to move onto his back. As she moved he attempted to swallow the lump that had developed after he watched her wince trying to move on his cock. Jon only really recognised what she was going to do when she lay herself down between his legs, stomach on the mattress, her hot breath fanning across his throbbing cock. _Gods. She’s not going to put her mouth on…_

 

“I used to hear talk of this when I was a young girl,” she told him quietly. “Just another example of how people tended to forget I was there, to think of me as a beautiful face and not much else. Viserys was to be the next Targaryen king, I was just _the other one_.” As she spoke she ran a single finger up the inside of his thigh, trying to calm her pounding heart. “In the slaver cities, I saw men pay for women to use there mouths right there in the streets, it used to make me sad to think what one would do for a coin.” Daenerys could see Jon’s chest as it rose and fell with every breath he took, his eyes never leaving hers. “And it was never the Dothraki way, they like their women submissive, they like to mount them, take them as a stallion does a mare. For the stallion’s pleasure, of course.” She was stalling. She was nervous. “I’ve never... knelt before a man before... for his pleasure alone. Although, I know one who would have thought it his greatest conquest in life, to be the one who brought Daenerys Targaryen to her knees.” Smiling up at him, Daenerys finished, “I’d really like to do this for you though.”

 

She watched Jon’s eyes roll back as she wrapped her lips around the tip of his shaft, saw his hands grab fistfuls of sheets at his sides as she took in more of him. Now it was his groaning sounds that filled the room causing her chest to tighten with pride. There was such a feeling of excitement within her that came from guiding his pleasure so completely. She could literally feel him pulse in her hands, on her tongue even. With a clear head, she was able to watch for signs of enjoyment or of impending release. _Do I give him what he thinks he wants, a quick release? Or continue, pleasure him more, see how much further I can push him?_ She worked at him with her hands, with her lips and tongue. The first time she trailed her teeth along him he had moaned so loudly she’d pulled away laughing. Daenerys had never felt so heady with power as she did toying with this man so intimately. The look of wanton lust painted in his eyes whenever they met hers made her stomach clench. 

 

Relentless. That was the only word he could use to describe this. _She’s going to kill me._ Jon pushed his head back into the pillows for what felt like the hundredth time as Daenerys once again took his cock deep into her mouth. _She’s never going to let me finish._ He had been about to explode on so many occasions and each time, just before, she had stopped. Daenerys removed her hands, pulled her lips away, refused to touch him at all until that looming feeling had ebbed away again. Then she would start over. He thought about sitting up and forcing her to stay where she was, not disappear. He thought about grabbing his shaft and finishing the job himself. But then he would look down and see the delight in her eyes and he would throw his head back against the pillow and tell himself, _soon. She’ll let me finish soon._

 

It was his barely intelligible mumbling that finally did it, finally made her realise it was time. Over and over again, and somewhat unconsciously, Jon repeated, “she’ll let me finish soon.” Maybe she had got carried away… When she finally decided it was time, she knew exactly where she wanted him to be. He barely noticed as she crawled up his body, mouth trailing past his deep scars, lips brushing over his heart, kisses pressed to the side of his neck. She put a hand on the mattress either side of his head and looked down at his face waiting for him to open his eyes. Seconds dragged on until finally they flickered open, awareness of her change in position slowly sinking in. “I want you to be inside me when you finish,” she told him in such a matter-of-fact way, his mouth went slightly slack. “Whenever you are ready,” she quipped, when he still didn’t move to enter her.

 

Instead, he extended one hand, laced the fingers into her hair and spoke softly, “earlier, you told me that I could burry myself in you every day if I wished, that you’d encourage it. If that is true, then let me now tell _you_ something. There will be times when I take you fast, like the world might end at any second. It’ll be frantic and hectic and breathtaking. There will be times when I’ll be rough, I'll throw you down on the bed, I'll fuck you against any surface you wish: floor, wall, door. I’ll be merciless in my need to please you.” Daenerys swallowed audibly and took a shuddering breath. “Then there will be times when I never want the moment to end, when I want to savour you, savour your naked skin under my fingertips, savour your taste on my tongue, the feel of your mouth around me.” Pushing himself up as he spoke, Jon waited until he was sat upright before finishing. “This, Daenerys... this is one of _those_ times.” And with that he brought her forward and kissed her while his other hand guided his cock home. Slicker now than he had ever felt her, he slipped in with ease and spilled his seed deep within.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Presently, Daenerys, you’ve naught on …

 

As the sun continued to rise far away on the horizon, they lay curled around each other once more in a tangle of blankets. It was such an odd way to start the day: on a ship headed to war, wrapped naked in a new lovers’ arms, aching from a night of exertion. It was blissful. It was peaceful. But he could only lay there so long before he felt the tug of responsibility; to make plans, to talk strategy, to question ideas. As she brushed her fingers back and fore through the dark hairs on his chest, he marvelled at how she could elicit so many feelings in him with such an innocent action. Slowly, the room grew ever brighter as more light crept through the gaps in the drapes, causing his anxiety about doing nothing to also grow. Kissing the top of her head, he untangled his limbs from hers and said quietly, “I best get dressed.”

 

Traipsing around the room, he felt her eyes follow him as he moved from the bed over towards the door. He mentally inventoried all the articles of clothing he’d been wearing the previous evening and as he picked each item up he allowed himself the simple pleasure of replaying the exact moment it had been removed. Belt: unbuckled frantically as soon as the door closed behind him, as if she feared she’d lose her nerve if she didn’t act quickly. Leather tunic: shoulder buckles undone with unsteady fingers while she held his gaze, a million questions passing unspoken between them. Jacket: pushed off his shoulders and down his arms as he just stood and stared at her bare breasts for the first time, totally transfixed. Shirt: he’d pulled over his own head but she’d leaned in just after to press a kiss above his racing heart. Breeches: the laces she’d untied slowly and with such care, then loosened so she could reach her hands inside and touch his stiffening cock. He’d mustered every ounce of strength within him to stop himself from exploding in her hands after the first cautious pump.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

“I still don’t know why you didn’t read it last night,” she said from the corner the room. Stood with her back to him, totally nude, she held an armful of dark fabrics. The dawn light now filtered, uninterrupted, through the large cabin windows making her pale skin appear to glow. Her silver hair shone as it tumbled down her back, braids half undone. He watched as she bent slightly to retrieve what looked like a pair of leather breeches from the trunk at her feet. Jon was sat on the edge of the bed, fully clothed once again. “I believe… I explained my reasoning to you last night,” he responded, rolling his eyes slightly. He held the scroll from Winterfell, carefully turning it over in his hands. Smiling to himself, he ran his thumb over the wolf’s head stamped in the wax. _I’ll be home soon_ , he thought to himself, _but for how long before I must leave again to fight this hopeless war._ Thinking of Winterfell and the family that awaited him there brought a lump to his throat which he tried desperately to ignore. _To see_ _Bran again… Arya…_ He took a deep breath in as he tried to swallow back the tears that threatened, turning his attention back to the letter. After he broke the seal, he turned to look at her again while he unrolled the parchment. “I miss silk,” she said quietly to herself. Turning, and catching him watching her, she said sadly, “If you could only see the clothes I wore in Essos, you’d probably blush.”

 

The parchment in his hands forgotten once again, he thought briefly about his reply before he spoke. “Presently, Daenerys, you’ve _naught_ on … do you see me blushing?” he questioned, then raised his brows in challenge. That made her smile. “What difference do you think it’d make, covering you up?” he inquired, the notion confusing him. That made her smile widen. The collection of woollens and leathers still clutched in her arms she walked over and dumped them at the foot of the bed before continuing around it. Coming to a stop directly in front of him, she asked curiously, “How would you feel if I walked out this room dressed as I am now?” She was playing with him, he knew. So, instead of providing a genuine answer he arranged his face into the most serious look he could muster, and clarified, “ _dressed_ … as you are now?” Her response: a single, measured nod. He let the silence stretch on, eyes locked with hers until eventually he caved. “Alright… I wouldn’t like it,” he said truthfully, lifting his chin upwards as if to ask: _Is that what you wanted to hear?_ But Daenerys wasn’t finished. “And why not?” she asked, looking straight down at him, her face giving nothing away. _Where is she going with this?_ After failing to come up with a more comprehensive explanation for her, he gave up and simply said, “I just wouldn’t like it.”

 

Since the barrier between them had seemed to have collapsed during the night, Daenerys had felt such a need to push him in ways she never had before, just to see what he might say. _Or do_. “Because people might see too much?” She suggested, staring into his dark grey eyes. “The curve of my backside not something others should appreciate? My back not for show? Or maybe you think my breasts, _my nipples_ , shouldn’t be seen by any eyes save for yours.” If he was taken aback by her words, he didn’t show it. So, she continued. “In Essos, I wore dresses where each and every one of those things were on show in some way or another.” She stepped between his legs slightly and lifted her hand up to comb the loose hairs off his forehead. Trailing a single finger down the right side of his face she carried on, “tell me you wouldn’t look at me, surrounded by people, wearing something like that, and not think about the times you spent touching those parts of me.” Leaning her face closer to his, she added, “about the times you spent licking and sucking and tasting those parts of me.” When her finger reached his chin, she lifted it. “You’re looking a little flushed right now,” she teased, and then let go, standing straight once again.

 

Just as before, he took his time to consider his reply. Stood before him, her hands on her hips, her navel level with his eyes and her breast hanging taut in the cool air, she awaited his response. One corner of his mouth lifted into an easy smile as he calmly answered, “I’m a little flushed because I can… _smell_ you.” His eyes flicked to the crop of silver hair directly in front of him, “and I really, really like it.” His chest expanded as he filled his lungs with the musty scent. Then, he release it in such a rush that it caused her to shiver and her skin to resemble goose flesh. “But the idea of you wearing a dress that lets me see this,” he reached out and touched her hip with the tips of his fingers, “this…” he continued, touching her behind, “and these…” he finished, cupping each breast, “that would make me hard, not blush.” Running his thumbs slowly over her nipples, he felt them pucker and begin to stiffen. Once he was satisfied with the result, he released them and moved his right hand down between her legs, pressing the fingers into her wet sex.

 

She had been jesting with him, but he was no longer playing her game. When he slipped a finger slowly up inside her all she could do was let out a long, slow sigh. The second time her entered her, two fingers stretched and filled her tender insides. Sinking forward, she clumsily placed her hands on his shoulders as she allowed her eyes to fall shut, pleasure once again gripping her. He caressed her soft flesh with such tenderness she felt a racking sob escape her mouth. She waited for the pain, but it never came. With her eyes closed she could still picture him as he fought off hordes of frenzied dead men, singlehandedly. With unrelenting aggression, she’d seen him slice one clean in half. _I know the violence those hands are capable of and yet..._ His voice cut through her darkness, quiet and unsure, “Is this… okay?” Nodding her head, she edged her feet across the wooden planks, spreading her legs further for him. _I hope that is enough of an answer for you._ She got her confirmation when he turned to press a kiss to her wrist, then slid three fingers deep into her dripping sex.

 

From the moment he’d touched her _there_ , he’d been mesmerised. Her eyes were closed but her face was totally open. He watched her mouth hang slack as he caressed her from the inside. He watched her pull her bottom lip between her teeth every so often, strangled cries slipping out. When she parted her legs for him, his chest had swelled. _Oh, you want more? I can give you more._ With his free hand pressed to her back, he brought the top half of her body closer, until he could place his lips around one of her rose-tinted nipples. Sucking it hard into his mouth he circled the nub with the tip of his tongue, enjoying the whimpers each flick elicited. Pulling back, Jon admired it’s new ruby red colour before rounding his lips and gently blowing cool air across the wet flesh. If her desperate moans weren’t assurance enough that she’d liked it, her moving to place the other nipple at his lips certainly was. While giving it the same attention he had the other, Jon began concentrating his efforts between her legs on the spot inside that made her groan and sigh and whimper the most.

 

A faint knock sounded at the door just as felt her start to tremble and clench. He released her nipple and pulled back to listen, looking up at her when the noise came again. Eyes still closed, mouth still agape, Daenerys didn’t even react when the knock sounded a third time, louder. Fearing he might hurt her if he hastened his actions in an effort to get her to peak, he decided to do something he knew would bring this to a quick conclusion. Withdrawing his fingers, he grabbed her waist and twisted her body round until she lay face up on the bed next to him. Shifting himself to the floor, he was on his knees between her legs when her frantic eyes found his. “Shhh,” he whispered, his eyes darting towards the door in warning. After pushing her knees apart, he slid three slick fingers back inside her, then placed his mouth around the swollen nub between her legs and sucked lightly. Just as he’d done with her nipples, he circled it with the tip of his tongue. With only three pumps of his fingers, her back arched up off the bed and her thighs clamped tight to the sides of his head. She brought both hands to cover her mouth and nose in an attempt to stifle the noises she made.

 

Gripping her knees, he pulled them apart to release his head. As he stood up he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Looking down at her, limbs limp, chest heaving, he wondered what he could possibly say to whomever was at the door. _How exactly are we supposed to explain this?_ “Your Grace… forgive the intrusion,” came Missandei’s soft voice. “I’ve come to help you dress and braid your hair before the rest of the ship awakens.” The relief Jon felt hearing her voice, and not Tyrion’s, was overwhelming. And, if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he could hear Missandei _smiling_ on the other side of the door. Reaching out, he grabbed a loose blanket from the bed and dragged it across Daenerys’ naked body until she was barely visible. He then placed his knee on the mattress and moved to hover over her, just as she’s done to him scarcely an hour before. He too placed a hand on either side of her head so he could look straight down into her heavy-lidded eyes. Smiling broadly, he commented, “you appear to be blushing, my Queen.” She didn’t even bother to reply, she just nodded her head and accepted his quip. Leaning closer, he said quietly, “I can’t wait to use my mouth for a whole night,” then he closed the final gap between their lips. He made sure this kiss was not fuelled by passion or desire, not desperate or needy as every other had been. Just brief, soft – like he’d do it every day for the rest of his life. _However long that might be._

 

Pushing back from her, back from the bed, he bent to pick up the letter from where it lay forgotten on the floor. Then he headed straight to the door and opened it, coming face-to-face with the Queen’s hand-maiden. Such was her level of propriety, she showed no surprise that it was he, and not Daenerys, at the door. Missandei stepped straight in to the cabin and ducked her head, offering a simple “My Lord.” He did not fail to notice however, that when she raised her eyes again and met his, she was barely managing to hide her smile. He swallowed and turned his attention to the cuff of his jacket, not daring to look across the room to where he’d left _the Queen_. Once he’d fixed his usual serious expression back in place, Jon offered the woman a solemn nod and turned to leave. “My Lord,” she called after him quietly, causing him to stop in his tracks, “no one but myself is up yet as it’s still so early. You may like to… return to your cabin and ... rest a little longer?” Jon listened carefully as she spoke, but refused to turn around fully and face her.  _If I go back to my room now, no one need know where I’ve been all night, that’s what she’s really telling me._ “Understood,” he responded curtly, before he continued on down the dark, wooden corridor and around the corner towards his own cabin.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Enough!

 

Daenerys knew she needed to move, she just _couldn’t_. She lay still, eyes closed, listening to her heart beat strong and steady in her chest. Missandei had quietly closed the door after Jon departed, and now moved silently about the room, no doubt picking up the clothing that had been discarded during the night. Daenerys heard the cabin door open and close once more, leaving her alone in her room, surrounded by the scent of _sex_. She took a deep breath and tried to savour the last fleeting memories of the previous night. Minutes passed before Missandei returned, a large copper jug clutched in her hands. Noticing her Queens eyes were now open, the young woman asked kindly, “would you like me to help you bathe, Your Grace?” Daenerys nodded, then summoned all of her willpower to push herself up and off the bed to stand. But it was no use. “Missandei…” she spoke quietly. “Would you… help me?” Smiling weakly at her friend, Daenerys was aware that she undoubtedly looked and sounded pathetic. As usual though, her friend did what was asked of her, without hesitation or hint of judgement.

 

Once stood upright, Daenerys was led by the hand over to the large copper tub, hidden out of sight behind a pale cloth screen near the cabin window. Missandei helped her to step into it, before retrieving the jug she had gone to fill. As the steaming water tumbled out, surrounding Daenerys’ feet, it mixed with the oils that had been added to the tub and left dried sprigs of lavender floating and swirling around. The air about Daenerys filled with a rich flowery fragrance and she felt a wonderful sense of calm wash over her. “I added a couple of drops of eucalyptus oil, Your Grace, to help with any… soreness or discomfort you may feel today.” The flush of her checks made Daenerys smile. “Thank you. I think some _relief_ today will be much needed.” Looking down at Missandei, she said quietly, “thank you for coming to help me this morning, I couldn’t have bared seeing anyone else.” This made the young Naarth woman smile, nod solemnly, and mutter a quiet ‘I thought as much’. Then, without further delay, Missandei got to work. Each time she dipped the soft white cloth into the piping water, the air thickened once more with the flowery scents. Missandei passed the cloth methodically up and down each of the Queen’s arms, across her chest and delicately over each breast. Daenerys lifted her hair up and off her back and neck to allow the cloth to pass below. Missandei knelt next to the basin and took each foot in her hand, wiped around each heel, along each sole, and across every toe with tender care. Carrying on up her leg, she stopped before the juncture of Daenerys’ thighs and looked up, waiting for approval. Daenerys swallowed and nodded, then slowly spread her legs apart for the second time in the last hour, allowing the cloth to touch her where his lips had just been.

 

As the material brushed over her tender skin, she shuddered and reached out instantly to stop the movement. “He kissed me there,” she said softly. “He… I…” but she couldn’t get any more out. “Was he… good to you, my Queen?” Missandei’s hesitant voice inquired. Looking down into her friends’ guarded eyes, Daenerys said truthfully, “there was a moment, when his mouth was on me, my eyes were shut... I truly couldn’t tell up from down. Just for a second, I thought I must be dreaming. Then… he was above me, looking down with this expression on his face...” Gazing out through window and across the choppy grey sea, she thought of his eyes. “No one has ever looked at me that way before.” Pulling the cloth away and dipping it back into the basin, Missandei asked, “what way, Your Grace?” Stare still fixed on the shifting water outside, Daenerys replied, “Like he’d just found the thing he’d been searching his whole life for.”

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

Walking into his cabin was like entering a distant, desolate place. It was unfamiliar and, compared to the room he had just vacated, held no warmth or comfort. It was dark and cold and damp and so obviously missing something… _Her_ , he thought simply. _It’s missing her_. His silver gorget was sat beside Longclaw, exactly where he’d left it the evening before: placed carefully at the foot of his bed. _I stood for close to an hour contemplating. That knock… I almost didn’t do it._ As he thought about the moments before and after he’d left his cabin, Jon found it difficult to quell his smile. Leaning to pick up both sword and scabbard he turned to hang them from a hook by the door _. I may need to defend myself if Tyrion finds out I bedded his Queen._ He’d need a hard smack to the jaw to stop him from walking about the ship smiling for the rest of the morning. _The rest of my life, even_.  He failed to catch, to stop, thoughts of her body writhing below his from consuming his mind, yet again. He felt slightly unhinged. Taking the roll of parchment from his breeches pocket, he sat at the edge of his bed and stared out of the single cabin window. The image of sea meeting sky was mesmerising. As he sat and admired the sun, a quarter of the way up the sky by now, he ran his free hand down his face hoping he might be able to rub some life, some energy, into his tired features. Knowing nothing would give him back a single second of sleep he’d forsaken during the night, he contemplated laying back and resting a few more hours. _Perhaps I can stay here until Ser Davos seeks me out._

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

She had been on edge all day, waiting for him to appear: to break his fast alongside the rest of the ship, to walk out on deck as Tyrion and Varys and Ser Davos spoke to her about numbers of fighting men and the struggles of travelling the King’s Road, now that Winter had arrived. But he didn’t show. Daenerys couldn’t summon the courage to ask after him for fear that her face would reveal how much she cared about his absence. She decided, however, that if he failed to attend the evening council meeting, she would enquire as to his whereabouts. Ser Davos was always very dutiful and polite towards her, he would tell her if something were amiss. _And if not, his face would surely give away something._ She reasoned over and over that it was by no means peculiar for the Queen to query when a member of her council was missing. But in the end, all her turmoil was futile: Jon Snow walked, no _strolled_ , into the large meeting room at the back of the ship, just as everyone was finding a place around the map table, settling into chairs. She had chosen to stand in the hopes that, if he did appear, she might elicit a shy smile from him… _I want to have no choice but to stand_ … but, he barely even looked at her unless it was absolutely required. He rung his hands together in his lap, spoke to Tyrion, Varys, Ser Davos. Anyone but her. It was infuriating. When she called the meeting to an end, dismissed everyone to go for the evening, she summoned Tyrion to her side and spoke quietly with him as the others filtered out. From the corner of her eye she saw Jon pause for a second at the door and glance towards her. However, she absolutely refused to look his way, refused to admit that she was watching him too.

 

He was being stupid, he knew. But he just didn’t know how to even be around her anymore, with others about anyway. Alone, nothing mattered, but with an audience… Just as he reached the door to his cabin, Jon heard Tyrion call out his name. Turning, he watched the Queen’s hand approach. Tyrion carefully looked him up and down as he spoke, “our Queen has requested that you go and speak with her.” When Jon looked puzzled, Tyrion elaborated, “she’s concerned her understanding of the Northern Houses is not up to standard. If she were to encounter them on our journey to Winterfell, she wishes to be more prepared.” Looking at the imp, Jon could scarcely figure out if Tyrion was delivering a genuine message, or a hastily constructed tale designed to lure him back. But he turned and went, all the same. For what choice did he have? Each step echoed down the wooden passageway, past the stairway down to the crew quarters, past the store cupboards and empty soldiers’ cabins, back to the meeting room he’d only just vacated.

 

Knocking on the open door as he entered, he located her, silhouetted by the enormous windows. Standing, shoulders squared and chin held high, he cleared his throat and announced, “you summoned me, Your Grace.” Jon then waited, not wanting to enter, or close the door, without her instruction. _Maybe she truly does want a history lesson,_ he mused. _To assume otherwise would be folly indeed_. As the silence stretched on, he found himself admiring the painted map table before him, twelve feet long and eight feet wide. He stood on one long side, she on the other. Daenerys had wanted a smaller version of the great painted map table in Dragonstone, so she could properly deliberate strategy when needed. _Never willing to relax her command of the game_. Placed directly at the centre of the large room, it was currently illuminated by the sun, setting slowly in the distance, as well as the vast number of candles mounted in the chandeliers that floated above it. During the day, all the exquisite details were visible in a hundred different colours, but in this light, it glowed only a hundred different shades of orange. Located at the very back of the great ship, light streamed into the room from three sides. To his left, front, and right, all Jon’s eyes were met with was sea: framed by ornate glass windows that ran from ceiling to floor. Only to his back were the walls made up of wood panelling: the start of the rest of the ship. The room could be described as truly wondrous, if the ship itself was not transporting them all to war.

 

“I thought you might like to educate me on the lands we will pass through, the Lords we will no doubt encounter, while we journey to your home.” Glancing back over her shoulder at him, she spoke a level of formality he hadn’t experienced in weeks, “I so want to make a good impression.” Her tone was serious, her face unsmiling. Turning away to look out to sea once more, Daenerys continued. “That is, if you can bare to be in such close proximity with me, My Lord.” Still, her tone remained serious. Accepting that his attempts to underplay any _goings on_ between them had possibly caused even her to doubt _this_ , he knew only he could remedy the situation. He replied with as much warmth and tenderness in his own voice as he could, “I’d be more than happy to assist you with whatever you ask, _My_ Queen. As you are aware, there has been much change in the North in recent years with the numerous houses vying for power.” Stepping forward, he decided to tease her slightly. “You did seem to have a pretty solid grasp on the complexities of the North, last we spoke of them. I recall being schooled on the events following Aegon’s conquest in your own throne room.”

 

Staring out at the setting sun, Daenerys smiled to herself. _Maybe all is not lost, if he can jest so easily with me still_. “Well remembered, Lord Snow, I believe that was the… first… time we met,” she clarified. “It seems so very long ago now.” The sea tossed and churned up behind the ship and the air in the cabin crackled between them, neither willing to break from formality quite yet. Finally turning to face him, Daenerys looked right into his eyes. “You were correct in assuming I wished for an up-to-date history, My Lord, but I also know very little about the histories of the lesser known Northern families. I wouldn’t wish to upset _the North_ , now that it’s so dear to my heart.” Pausing, she took a step towards the table, her breath catching slightly as she pondered her next request. Something in his eyes finally gave her courage enough to speak. She swallowed, then said quietly, “would you… close the door?... Then, join me at the table, I wish to retire to bed as soon as possible.” And with that, she dropped her eyes downwards to observe the slowly dimming map, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

 

“Tyrion has been instructed to ensure that no one will disturb us,” came her voice, after he turned to push the door closed. Barely able to hide his own smile, Jon replied, “and what reason did you give for that?” Once he’d latched the door firmly shut he turned back to face her, just in time to watch her smirk disappear and a look of irritation cross her face. “Does a queen have to explain her wish for privacy to anyone?” Hoping to quell her annoyance, he dipped his head and shoulders forward, conceding. “Shall we start with White Harbour, since it’s the northern most city and we’ll be arriving there first? They won’t have seen a Targaryen in a very long time, folk will show up in their thousands just to say they were there… and to check that you’re real.” Jon may have been easily won over by the Dragon Queen, but he knew it would take more than his own assurances to convince the stubborn northerners.

 

“Have you visited there many times before?” She asked him, before reaching out to run her fingers over the small painted city labelled _White Harbour_ , the thumb sized castle that sat atop a rocky outcrop, the winding road that started in the city but stretched upwards, past Winterfell, to the great Wall itself. Walking around the sheet of embellished oak, Jon ran his fingertips along the edges of the kingdom, until he was stood next to her. Perching his soft behind against the table’s edge, he stared out towards the glowing horizon and folded his arms. “Rob and I rode there a handful of times with our father when he went to visit New Castle. While he supped with Lord Manderly, we were nearly always released to the _care_ of the young Manderly sons who were quick to show us all the places our Lord father would despise us seeing. I bet the location of the brothels hasn’t changed much in the last decade.” He smiled at her, enjoying the somewhat taken aback look she wore on her face. “For the most part we were peeking through windows, but whenever we plucked up the courage to go in, the whores grouped with such ease: those who strived to try and bed a young nobleman, and those who were content with just a nobleman’s bastard. They thought I was naught better than them really.”

 

Daenerys watched his face as he allowed her yet another glimpse into his past. The hurt when he spoke of his childhood was always so clear in his voice, in his features, that it pained her. Hoping to lighten the mood she nudged him and asked, “Is that where your many _talents_ come from?” Shaking his head, he faced the sea when he spoke. “I’ve bedded only one woman in my life.” He must have quickly realised his error, as he turned back to her to clarify, “one _other_ woman!” That made her laugh. Looking back at the map she mumbled, “that could have been quite a revelation, that I had taken your maidenhood.” When he didn’t fire back a quip straight away, she began to panic, not daring to look at him again. When he did finally speak his voice was so ragged, it almost seemed to cut through the space between them. “Had I bedded a thousand woman before you, it would have mattered not. I do to you only what I’ve imagined, what I’ve dreamed of, since you first stood and ordered me to _bend the knee_. By gods Daenerys, I was not willing to promise you the North then, but I’d have forsaken myself, body and soul, had you asked that of me.”

 

Swallowing hard, she looked at him for a long time before shyly asking, “why only _one_ woman?” Only after she spoke, did she feel somewhat embarrassed with her question: she was supposed to be improving her knowledge of the history of the North, not the history of Jon Snow’s lovers. So engrossed in her thoughts, she missed his response and felt heat creep up her cheeks as she asked him to repeat it. “I said, ‘not, who?’ You surprised me, wishing to know the reason why I’ve not bedded _more_ woman, rather than enquire who it was I bedded!” Sounding amused, he went on. “While I’ll admit that my brothers in the Night’s Watch never cared all that much for the vow of celibacy, the vow forsaking marriage was another, much more sacred, one I was unwilling to break.”

 

 _What has marriage got to do with sex, apart from the obvious? Men have bedded woman outside of their marriage bed since time began, Jon must know that better than anyone…_ As the realisation struck her, he was finishing his explaination. “The outcome of bedding a woman can be a child. A child by a woman who is not my wife… that child would always be a bastard. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, most especially not my own kin.” Suddenly desperate to know why he’d been so comfortable spilling his seed inside her so many times, she started responding, “But…” Then, realisation struck, along with a twinge of hurt that hit her right in her empty womb.  _I’m barren,_ she silently answered her own question. _I’ve told him enough times, he must know there is no chance of fathering any child with me._

 

He knew instantly what she had been about to say. He watched her wince, tear her eyes from his, and turn back to stare at the expanse of painted lands before her. He also knew just where her mind had wandered next. “Daenerys… when I told you that day in the Dragon Pit, that the… witch… you spoke of was probably not a reliable source of information, it’s because I hope, one day, you will be heavy with child once more.” Clearly nor wanting to discuss the matter further, Daenerys kept her eyes focussed on a spot across the Seven Kingdoms and said evenly, “You know, I didn’t need to ask _who_ it was. You have more honour than any man I’ve ever known. You would not have come to me, had you been promised to another. The one you spoke of must be… dead?” He muttered a solemn ‘yes’ before she continued. “I thought I saw it in your eyes when I spoke of Drogo. An understanding of how it feels to lose someone you love.” She saw his head turn towards her, felt him staring down at her for a long time before he finally answered. His voice held the same authority it did when he talked of the threat beyond the wall: absolute unwavering certainty in what he spoke of. “At the time, I thought it was love, but now I know different. It was deep, _deep_ , affection... but not love.”

 

As he moved from next to her to behind her, slowly pressing himself against her back, her eyes dropped shut and her whole body shivered. She flattened her palms out against the top of the painted table while he wrapped his hands around her waist. “Are you cold, My Queen?” He whispered in her ear, his nose running up and down along her silver briads. Nodding, she breathed out, “I’m a little underdressed this evening.” He paused, then step backwards, moving away from her. Standing a few feet away, she _felt_ his eyes trail down her body, all the way to the floor, then up again, causing her to shiver once more. In an instant, he was back, his front pressed against her back again. “You are wearing a wool coat and boots, My Queen. Just as you were yesterday, just as you were the day before. I would not describe you as underdressed.” Daenerys cocked her head to the side to look back at him and her face stretched into a broad smile. Removing one of his hands from its place at her hip, she brought it up to her lips where she pressed a very chaste kiss to the knuckles. Flattening his hand out, she proceeded to slide it under the front flap of her coat.

 

She encouraged his fingers to move passed the soft fur and fine-spun wool until the material ended, and only hot naked skin lay beneath his fingertips. She knew the exact moment he realised she was naked beneath, because his body stiffened behind her. His fingertips caressed her skin while is straining voice asked, “have you nothing on beneath your coat?” Not trusting her own voice, she nodded, then waited to see what he’d do next. “All through the meeting…?” He checked, in disbelief. “Nothing,” she finally assured him. Without delay, he removed his hand, spun her and kissed her with such intensity she quickly had to tear her mouth away just to take a breath.

 

Jon felt as if she’d sucked the air from his own lungs as she pulled away gasping. With shaking fingers, he forcefully pulled apart each of the fastenings of her coat until they were all undone. He felt desperate in his need to see her. Milky skin stood out against the dark-grey wool and fur: she really was entirely naked. _She is entirely perfect_. He felt himself twitch in his breeches as he thought about what he was going to do with her. _But_ … _anyone could walk in and see us, see her, no matter the instruction Tyrion was given,_ he worried silently _._  In the end, he didn’t care enough to stop, to re-fasten her coat, to move them to the privacy of a cabin. The heavy material made a _whoosh_ as it fell from her body and hit the floor. He stepped backwards again to take in what was on display before him. Her boots ended just above her knees. At the apex of her pale thighs sat a crop of silver curls. Her stomach seemed to clench every so often as he continued to admire her. She’d rested her behind against the table’s edge and she’d placed her hands either side, gripping the wood firmly. Chest, and by default breasts, heaved with every breath she took. The skin around her nipples was bunched up and wrinkled, the nubs were so erect. When his eyes finally met hers, the look she gave him made him move his hand to press hard against his aching cock, trying to provide it with some relief.

 

 _I want to tell him that I’m slick all the way down my thighs,_ she thought to herself. So, she did. As her words hung heavy in the air between them, he closed his eyes and visibly swallowed, his hand rubbing back and forth over his straining crotch. When he opened them again, there was fire in them. “You still want that history lesson, Your Grace?” He asked gruffly. When she nodded, he took two strides towards her, grasped her shoulders and spun her to face the map table. Leaning his head forward so he could speak directly into her ear, he said “well then, let me show you everything you need to know about the North.” He pressed her forward into the crest of the map where the Weeping Water and the Last River met the sea, until her torso lay flat against the cool expanse of wood. Daenerys gasped as her right cheek finally came to rest on the table, directly over the painted Dreadfort. He took her left hand in his own and placed it on the small painted castle at the mouth of White Harbour.

 

 _Let’s see how long she wants me to talk history_ , he mused to himself, as he began. “This is where King Jon Stark founded the Wolf’s Den,” he revealed, revelling in the sound of his own name being preceded by ‘King’ and followed by ‘Stark’. While his left hand held hers over the miniature image of Wolf’s Den, his right hand reached down between their bodies, following the crease of her behind before slipping between her dripping folds. “It was held by Stark’s and their offshoot branches for hundreds of years as they defended the White Knife from invaders.” He ran the entwined fingers of their left hands along the painted river marked ‘White Knife’, while he curved the fingers of his right hand up inside her sex, stroking her silky flesh. Brushing his lips up and down her spine, he paused his lesson to enjoy the faint whimpers that fell from her lips. “The Stark’s gave the lands to the exiled House Manderly after they swore oaths of fealty and loyalty.” Speeding up the movement of his right hand, he knew he would break her soon. “Over time, the Manderly’s built a new castle and chose to convert Wolf’s Den into a prison. Their new residence, aptly named ‘New Castle’, sits further inland and…”

 

“Enough!” Daenerys cried out. “Please! You’ve proven your point… please, no more!” She knew as the words fell from her lips that he would be smiling triumphantly behind her, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to stop talking and focus fully on whatever he was planning to do with her body. He released her left hand and pushed himself up and off her, trailing a line of kisses down her back and then continuing on to the start of her backside. She was literally bent over the wooden table, hands and arms spread across, her behind perched over the ledge. Every now and then she felt a slight draft move through the room and caress her body, chilling the area between her thighs that was damp with her arousal.

 

It only took him a second to run through each and every possibility of what he could do to her, before he made his decision. Jon knelt between her legs and grabbed both of her feet, one in each of his hands. Widening them, her legs spread before him, parting her dripping sex further and further. When he could see all the way along her cleft to the smooth red nub at the front he stopped his movements and ran his hands up the front of her boots, then continued on up the sides of her thighs. He watched her skin prickle and cover in gooseflesh before his eyes, all the way up her legs and across her behind. He then gripped each cheek tightly and parted her even more. Pressing forward, he placed a kiss at her entrance, rejoicing at how wet his lips were when he pulled away. He licked her taste off and sighed as he imagined spending the next few hours with his face pressed against her, his tongue buried deep inside her. Slowly he moved the tip forward, reaching out until he felt the soft little nub that sat at the apex of her sex. Then her licked her, all the way along her slit until he could press his tongue headlong into her hidden channel. He groaned when his tongue lay deep inside, before he continued to work it in and out, back and fore. When she came, she was surprisingly quiet. Her taste flooded his mouth and he stayed to lap up everything she gave him. Standing, he untied his breeches, pulled out his cock, and pumped it a few times in his fist as he looked down at her.

 

While she lay there, coming down from her climax, she tried to rearrange her arms but he reached out and wrapped a hand around each of her biceps, lifting her upwards until she was stood once more. “Now I’m going to fuck you in front of the whole world,” he informed her, before marching her, bones limp, straight towards the back of the ship. The wall of windows had been built at a slight forward slant between great wooden beams, using glass that was a finger-width thick. This allowed for observers to gain superior views of the surroundings without compromising so much on safety. _It also allows me to fuck the Queen more easily_ , Jon mused. Overlooking the darkening sky and the almost-set sun, he guided her body forward until she rested against the vast panes of ice-cold glass. Closing his eyes momentarily, he tried to picture her body from the other side: forearms, thighs, breasts, _nipples_ , stomach, all squashed flat against the window. He growled out at the thought that right then, anyone could be on the water outside the ship, looking up at her. But he knew they were leagues away from any human life.

 

Daenerys yielded without a fight: Jon could do as he wished with her. The glass was almost painfully cold when he’d first laid her against it, but she barely felt it now. She felt him press his knee between her legs and part then more and more until she felt her folds gently part. For balance, she reached her left hand out to the side until she could grab hold of one of the solid wooden beams, holding it tight in her hand. By the time Jon entered her, she had repeated the action with her right hand and had firmly anchored herself to the great vessel they sailed in. While she lay with almost her full weight against the glass, he barely added any burden. He too stretched his arm wide to grip onto the wooden beams on either side of her, which meant the only place they touched was where his shaft slid in and out of her sex, and on occasion, the tops of his thighs grazed her behind. _It’s as if he’s trying to barely touch me_ , she thought frustratedly. The rest of her body anxiously anticipated any form of contact from any other part of him, but spread out and suspended as she was, she could not seek out any more contact than what he chose to give her. No longer conscious of the cold glass mattress she lay atop, she watched the last crescent-shaped fleck of sun drop below the sea, sucking the light from the horizon and making all the stars in the sky suddenly shine bright against the night. She could have laid like that for the rest of her life.

 

Jon knew when he was about to spill his seed, the feeling more familiar now than it had been for many years. Cock buried deep inside a woman’s flesh, not gripped tight in his own fist: it was an entirely different feeling when finishing. Loosening his right hand from where it gripped the wood, he reached down to wrap it around her thigh. Lifting her leg up and out to the side allowed him to press himself deeper into her. The muscles in her arms tensed, her knuckles turned white, and her loud moans made the glass in front of her mouth fog up. With one final thrust, he came, as far up inside her as he could. Then he stopped, kept perfectly still, hoping every last drop of his seed would remain deep inside. Releasing her leg, he heard it drop heavily back to the floor. Taking hold of the beam with his right hand once more, he bent his neck forward, until his forehead rested against the cool glass. Breathing into her damp hair that lay across her right shoulder, he marvelled at the feeling of her inner walls clenching around him rhythmically. _It’s as if she’s milking my cock for everything it’s worth._

 

Daenerys had never felt so loved in her entire life, nor so safe. While she currently laid overlooking the churning sea below, every single part of her felt surrounded by him or filled by him. By his body, by his love. He had twitched three times inside her, she’d felt it. She lay still, praying that his _love_ would do something no man had done before: give her a living, breathing, child of her own. _Our child_. The muscles within her still clenched and quivered as he remained motionless behind her, within her. _But…I didn’t get my release..._  she thought, when he finally withdrew his shaft from her and backed away.  _Is he… done with me… now he has finished?_

 

Standing behind her, staring at her through the relative darkness, Jon tucked his softening cock back into his breeches. He found her coat behind him on the floor, picked it up, and shook it out. He then watched as she released her iron grip of the wooden beams and carefully pressed her palms to the glass either side of her breasts, slowly pushing back until she was stood upright. Walking over to her, he draped the coat about her shoulders, holding onto them to prevent her from turning around. “It’s late, my Queen. I shall be retiring to my cabin now. If there’s _anything else_ you need from me, you know where to find me.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left her, walking around the huge table and out the door, making sure to close it after him. The last image he had of her was almost identical to the first, stood silhouetted against the vast windows that made up the back of the ship. Only this time, Jon observed, it was moonlight that filled the room, not the orange glow of the setting sun. Whether he’d closed the door to allow the Queen some privacy to re-dress or plot his murder, Jon Snow couldn’t decided. Either way, it made him laugh to himself as he moved soundlessly along the corridor.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

When?

 

 

It had been nine days of bliss. Nine days of midnight visits, stolen kisses, longing looks, and unspoken promises. Nine days that had dragged by at an excruciatingly slow pace yet also disappeared in a heartbeat. She had avoided each and every attempt Tyrion had made to start a discussion with her: about how she was spending an awful lot of time in her cabin, about how she always seemed to be tired, about how he seemed to frequently find her staring absently off at nothing. While she’d happily make up some excuse, he never failed to mention how Jon Snow was often nowhere to be found at times, was also yawning frequently and had been observed smiling to himself while he walked about the ship. The pair had tried to limit the time they spend in each other’s company during daylight hours but some days, every moment they were apart made every inch of her ache, made her feel like she was missing a piece of herself.

 

As the sun set marking the end of their ninth day of the voyage, Ser Davos had come to her in the map room with the news that, by sunset the following day, they would be docked in White Harbour, likely sat down for an evening meal with those left of the Manderly household. She had thanked the kind knight, smiling at him as he begged his leave. Walking to the great wall of windows to watch the sky darken and night develop, she saw as the stars were revealed once more. She was still there, her side resting against one great wooden beam, when Tyrion found her. No one had come to light the candles yet so the room glowed faintly from just the light of the moon. “We must talk, My Queen, whether you wish it or not,” he spoke firmly from the doorway. “Tomorrow, we will disembark this vessel and I feel… terribly uneasy… not knowing the next steps you are planning to take.” Closing her eyes, she pictured herself, stood in the exact same spot a week earlier. Only then, she’d been naked, save for her fine-spun wool coat which he’d draped over her just before leaving the room. _If there’s anything else you need, my Queen, you know where to find me_. The look he’d given her when she’d marched into his cabin and removed her coat once more, her boots too, had been thrilling. Even more so as she pressed him back onto his mattress and straddled his face. _Well, he did express a wish to spend a whole night with his face between my legs_ , she mused, smirking. Tyrion’s cough brought her back to the room, his words laced with his unique class of humour. “You’re doing that daydreaming thing again.”

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

After Tyrion departed, she remained in the map room, alone, until the bitter-cold night air soaked through every layer of fabric she wore and reached the very marrow of her bones. Soundlessly, she moved through the darkened corridors of the ship in a trance-like state, her feet knowing where to take her. Letting herself into the dim-lit cabin, she undressed slowly at the foot of the bed. Stood naked, she watched him sleep as she undid her braids. Daenerys observed his sleeping form, noting absentmindedly that while he usually seemed to favour the right side when they shared a bed, this night he was curled up upon the left, a pillow clutched tight between his arms. When they’d passed in the corridor hours earlier, she’d been too craven to do anything more than brush her fingertips against his hands, uttering a hurried “your cabin,” before continuing the way she had been headed. _He must have fallen asleep waiting_.

 

Somewhere between slumber and wakefulness, Jon lingered, marvelling at his minds ability to so accurately recreate her: the smell of her body, the gentle warmth her skin emitted when she lay close to him. More often than not these days, his dreams revolved around her: what they’d done, what he longed for them to do. So far, this night alone, he’d replayed the evening she’d taken him in her mouth while he’d been eagerly exploring between her legs with own. Her strangled cries had been muffled by his cock filling up her mouth and slipping down her throat. He’d also imagined what it would feel like to fuck her in the warm pools of Winterfell… outside, in the daylight. Jon liked the thought of that a lot. As he drifted in and out of sleep, he reached his hand down under the blankets and furs that covered him, and took hold of his pulsing shaft, hoping she’d come and join him soon. As he lazily pumped his fist up and down, he sighed deeply.  _Gods_ , he thought in amazement, _it’s as if I can smell her sweet sex already._

 

“Would you like me to do that?” She asked, her quiet breathless voice sounding almost deafening in the noiseless cabin. When his grey eyes flung open and met her gaze, Daenerys beamed down at him. “Have I kept you waiting long?” She followed her question with a gentle kiss which he immediately deepened by pressing his free hand to the back of her head. Holding her in place, he drank his fill from her lips. After several drawn out moments of exploring her mouth with his oh-so-talented tongue, Jon pulled back to look up into her eyes. “So long... I think I fell asleep, My Queen,” he said, sounding mildly apologetic. A smile lit up his face when she gave him a scolding look at the use of her title. Winding the fingers of his hand deeper into her silvery locks and gripping a chunk of it tight in his fist, he guided her mouth back to his for another kiss: woefully brief, but firm. “ _Dany_ ,” he uttered her name after pulling back. Spoken with such devotion, the sound of that name caused her heart to race frantically beneath her ribs. Perched at the edge of his bed, looking down at him, she took a shuddering breath and swallowed hard. _How, after sharing so many intimate moments, can you still pilfer my wits and render me mute with just a single look… with a softly spoken word,_ she questioned him silently.

 

“Come to bed.” Jon spoke the words like an order. Still remaining on his side, he released his grip of her and shuffled himself backwards until there was space in front of him. Slipping between the blankets and furs he gasped when her limbs met his. Her skin had glowed shades of subdued orange in the faint candlelight, but beneath her flame coloured flesh there was only ice. “Seven hells,” Jon exclaimed, the places she'd touched flinching instantly away from her, “you are cold as death!” Not appearing to care, she lay herself on her left side, facing him, but tucked further down under the bedcovers. Her left arm she curled into the warm space between them, the right she slipped over and around his waist, resting it just above his behind. There, he felt her cool fingers move along his lower back, like they were dancing. Lastly, she ran her right knee up and down the crease between his thighs until he parted them, allowing her chilled limb to slide between them. When she shifted herself, trying to get settled, her wet, hot, core brushed against his leg, forcing a choked groan to slip from within him. Below his chin, she bent her head forward and rested it against the dark curls on his chest, failing to stifle a giggle.

 

Daenerys waited a moment before she chanced a look up at him. As she repeated the movement, rubbing her slit along his thigh, waves of pleasure and sensation surged through her body. It thrilled her to see that it seemed to please him too. Continuing the motion, the coarse hairs of his leg tickled her smooth flesh, adding an incredible sensation she’d never felt before. They lay together, barely moving, enjoying one another. “Do you like that?” She said, quietly. When he nodded, she spoke again, “me too... very much.” Lifting her chin up with his finger, he spoke straight to her soul when he said, “I can tell you are enjoying this, you feel slicker than I have ever felt you. Even against my leg, you’re… you’re _wet_.” The anticipation she felt before she spoke made her heart pound and her head feel light, for she knew that what she was about to say would awake the part in him she most enjoyed seeing. “I… I shaved _it_ …” She told him, nervously. “My … it’s … I’m totally bare down there.”

 

Jon’s movements after she spoke were almost dream-like. While his mind tried to replay the moments before she’d climbed into bed, his left hand released her behind and began to move. _She was sat on the bed when I woke_ , he thought, as he gripped her hip and started to push her away. _I looked at her when she stood up to climb in the bed… definitely, but … I think only looked at her face_. Thoughts still speeding about his head, he moved her with purpose, untangling their limbs until she lay flat on the mattress. Dragging the sheets and furs back from them both, he held his breath until she was fully exposed before him. Moving his eyes downwards from her face, flushed and serious, he admired her slender neck and heaving breasts, until he reached the juncture between her thighs. When he saw she’d spoken the truth, all the air left is body in a loud rush.

 

Daenerys lay motionless, unsure about exactly what he thought about her revelation. He looked almost angry, pained even, yet between his legs his cock pulsed and twitched, milky pearls of fluid escaping from the tip and lazily rolling down over the purple head. Feeling suddenly bold, she slowly slid her feet up the mattress, raising her knees and parting her legs until her glistening flesh lay wide open. Her damp pussy instantly chilled in cool night air. Looking up at him, she watched his eyes fall closed and his chest expand as he sucked in a breath. “When?” Jon asked weakly, still not opening his eyes. “After you left this morning,” she answered cautiously. “I was washing myself and I wondered how… how it would feel to be smooth down there. I did leave a little hair … I didn’t want to look too much like a maiden.” When his eyes remained shut, she asked nervously, “do you want to… look?”

 

At her question, he finally opened his eyes, desperation flashing across them, then a look of passionate rage. “Do I _want_ to look?” He said, his tone frighteningly harsh. “What I… _want_ …” he said, louder, practically spitting the words out. “Fuck! What I want! I want to _fuck you_... Fuck your mouth, fuck your sweet cunt, fuck you with _my mouth_ , fuck you every way possible. And I _want_ to do it all the time: _all_ day, _all_ night, _always_. If I could, I would spend the rest of my days with part of me buried in part of you. I’ve told you as much before. Do I _want_ to look at your bare little sex, Daenerys? _Do I_? Honestly… I’m still deciding. Should I look... or see how it feels under my fingers first, or… on my tongue, or… wrapped around my cock? Gods! I almost came when you were rubbing yourself on my fucking leg.” Sitting up on his knees, he moved between her legs and stared down at her pink folds. When he reached out and pinched the small tuft of short silver hair left at the top, she gasped, not able to decide if it hurt or if she was just over sensitive. Her eyes stayed trained on his face, desperately trying to predict what he was going to do with her next.

 

Knelt between her parted legs, looking down at her, Jon was actively trying to control himself. His thoughts were… frantic, almost crazed. She made him utterly mad. Her next spoken words did little to diffuse his state of mind. “After tonight, we must stop this, Jon.” Reaching out she took hold of his right hand with her left, and squeezed it reassuringly. “Tyrion finally spoke to me. You know he’s been trying to since this began, but so far, I’ve managed to avoid him. I wasn’t ready to hear what he had to say on the matter.” Tugging at his hand, she brought it towards her until he had to rest his left hand next to her on the mattress to stop from falling forward. Staring up at him, she placed a kiss in his open palm, then moved it down to place at her breast, pressing his hand around the sensitive flesh. He cupped her gently before she continued to move it down her body. “Tyrion is very concerned about how the North will react to me… he thinks it would be best if we didn't announce… _this_ … until they are more used to my presence.” Guiding his hand between her open legs, she released it, then held her breath as she awaited his response.

 

Jon let his hand hover just above her, warmth radiating from her like the heat from a flame. Both were breathing heavily, chest heaving, eyes locked. Time slipped past them slowly until he found his voice. “And if the North _do_ accept your … _presence_. Then what?” He asked, curiously. “We will be allowed to announce _this_ then?” As the last word left his lips, Jon slid a finger inside her, then pulled it out and glided it up along her slick folds. Placing his hand on her thigh he bent down between her parted thighs and blew a slow, steady stream of air across her damp, hairless sex. Below him, Daenerys pitched and heaved, releasing a long moan. “Ahhh…” she cried out, “yes!” Panting… squirming… she began to vigorously nod her head as she continued, “I’ll shout it from Winterfell’s Great Keep if that’s what you wish, but _please…_ will you _please_ just… touch me!” Leaning back up to her face, Jon kissed her long and deep. Pulling away only an inch, he whispered softly, “if this shall be the last night I spend with you... _in you_ … for the foreseeable future…” Hesitating, he pressed another kiss to her open mouth, tugged on her lower lip with his teeth and bit down gently. “Let me make one thing clear. I’m going to make sure this is a night you won't forget.”

 

The first thing he did, was the thing she’d imagined most as she’d slid the razor-sharp blade across her soapy flesh: he put his mouth on her. As he licked her clean-shaven skin, she felt truly in awe of just how much more sensitive she was without her usual covering of hair. When he took one of her folds into his mouth, sucking on it as if she was actual food he could devour, her whole body seized, contracted inwards and encapsulated him. Both her hands took hold of his thick black curls and pressed him harder against her sex. She felt him _laugh_ then, release her, and turn his head so the side, muttering an amused “I still need to breath, Dany” against her thigh, followed by a tender kiss. He sucked, licked and bit every inch of her a thousand times over. He wrapped his lips around her sensitive nub and sucked at it like a baby at a mothers teat. Then he ran his tongue round and round and _round_ it until she sat up and pushed him away, her hands pressing forcefully at his shoulders. “I can’t…” she sobbed out. “I can’t take that anymore.”

 

Staring up at her, he licked the musty taste of her from his lips, pondering his next move. Between his legs he felt his cock throb painfully, desperate for attention. Sitting up, Jon crawled towards her until his mouth met the skin above her heart, her heartbeat pounding strong against his lips as he pressed a kiss to her. Lifting his head upwards, he stopped when his nose touched hers and asked softly, “tell me, what  _do_  you want from me.” Her wide, violet eyes bore into his and a million thoughts flashed across them. “I want you like this,” she told him boldly, “just like this.” Moving her legs from beneath him, she encouraged him back until he was kneeling, his behind resting on his heels. “I want to look into your eyes, I want your mouth on my mouth, I want your kisses on my neck, my breasts. I want your hands on my behind, lifting me up and off you then dragging me back down, stretching me, filling me. I want to see your face when you enter me because I love how it looks, how good it feels for you. You think you can’t tell me what goes on in your head, but you never fail to show me how… how much you feel for me.” Raising herself up on her knees, Daenerys gripped his cock and held him steady as she moved into place. “Please don’t think of this as the last time … it’s not. It’s … it’s only the beginning... I know it. What I feel for you… this is just the beginning.”

 

When her legs, and his arms, grew tired of moving her body over his shaft, he guided her backwards onto the soft mattress. She spread her legs wide apart as he lay himself down on top of her then clutched his back as he slipped passed her slick folds again. From this position, he could drive himself deep inside her, reach the spot that made her insides shake and tighten. His left hand stayed pressed into the mattress next to her head, while his right explored the rest of her body. He cupped and squeezed her breasts as they rocked in time with her body. He pinched and tugged at her nipples until they felt hard as pebbles beneath his fingertips. He gripped the back of one thigh and helped her wrap her leg around his body, then pressed it higher and higher to open her centre ever further. What light remained in the room allowed for only the outline of her features to show: eyes pressed tightly closed, lips parted, breasts heaving. He moved in and out of her until she reached her hand up to cup his face and breathed out an exhausted “ _please_.” Resting his forehead in the space vacated by his left hand, he took each of the cheeks of her behind in each of his palms as he pumped his cock into her for the final time. He bit hard into the flesh of her shoulder to try and stifle the noise he made as his release shot deep inside her. Below him, her body trembled as hushed whimpering noises escaped from her lips. Slipping, limp and wet, from between her folds, Jon rolled awkwardly away, trying not to crush her under the weight of his weary limbs. Once he’d pulled her listless body against his, he rearranged the covers to shield their sweat-covered skin from the bitter night air. As sleep began to take over, Jon felt the need to squeeze her tight to his chest, to reassure her he was there, ready to protect her from any danger. Before he’d even thought about what he was saying, the whispered words had passed through Jon’s lips and out into the darkness that surrounded them. “I miss you already."

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

I gave you my word... 

 

 

“The King in the North!” Lord Manderly’s voice boomed across Merman’s Court, a sentiment echoed, soon after, by the near two hundred North men and woman that were feasting before him. After he sat, Jon to his right, Daenerys to his left, Lord Manderly muttered quietly under his breath, “Lady Sansa informed me of the letter she wrote to you, Your Grace … regarding you remaining _King_ in the North on your journey to Winterfell…” Lord Manderly had been speaking to Jon, but as he snuck a glace towards the Queen his voice trailed off. While Daenerys remained composed, there was a coldness too her eyes that had not been there before the mention of the Sansa’s letter. Attempting to add some backing to Lady Sansa’s suggestion, as well as calm the situation, the old man kept talking. “I was in full agreement, of course. The people of the North are preparing for a difficult time ahead. I’m sure once they see _all_ that this beautiful Queen is prepared to do in order to help them, they will support her claim to the Iron Throne. But for now, Jon, they trust _you_ … they trust in _your_ words and what _you_ can lead them through.” When he spoke, he spoke directly to Jon, a fact lost on no one.

 

Sighing, Jon knew that whatever his answer, Ser Davos and Lord Tyrion were also within earshot and, no doubt, waiting to hear what he had to say on the matter. “Then why, My Lord, will the North not trust me in _this_?” He felt defeated knowing his sister and the Northern Lords had already undermined his pledge to The Dragon Queen. Looking passed the old, white-haired man, Jon spoke only to Daenerys, knowing at this point it was up to him alone to reassure her. “I responded to Sansa’s letter immediately, thanking her for her suggestion, but reiterating that I would be travelling alongside the Queen as _Warden_ of the North. Did my sister fail to relay that correspondence with you?” Looking back to the man seated between him and Daenerys, he waited for the Lords response. Quietly, Lord Manderly answered. “She did not, My Lord." Turning towards Daenerys, he added “please accept my apologies, Your Grace.”

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Speaking in hushed tones, Jon walked alongside Ser Davos back to his room. The Manderly’s had insisted they spend at least one night housed in New Castle, claiming that the road North would get increasingly difficult as the snow worsened. This night would probably be the last they spent sheltered and protected by the walls of a castle until they reached Winterfell. Between where he currently stood and his home lay just over a hundred leagues of road, most of it poorly kept and made poorer still by the weather which seemed to worsen each new day that dawned. Lord Manderly had spent the remainder of the evening discussing the likely outcomes of the War for the Dawn: none of them had been versions Jon ever want to see become reality. Daenerys had sat quietly at the loud man’s side, answered each of his blunt questions, and listened to him subtly insult and demean members of her family. Jon had bitten his tongue on too many occasions, knowing that if he reacted, Lord Manderly would no doubt have something to say about it. Also, he had witnessed Daenerys put many bigger and uglier men in their places without breaking a sweat, including himself. If what Lord Manderly said irked her enough, she would have told him.

 

Walking into his room first, Jon heard the faint sound of voices from the large courtyard below his windows. Men called through the still night air for different stocks and supplies. Broken instructions on tomorrows timings fought for dominance over commands about the numbers of horses that would be needed, where, when, and with what equipment. Needing to be free from his many layers of thick clothing, Jon immediately began to undo his leather sword belt. Once he'd removed Longclaw, he threw it on his bed and turned to bid Ser Davos good night. Over the distant sounds of the men outside, Jon could hear footfalls on the stone stairway they’d just ascended and he watched the knight turn and look back down the narrow corridor towards the sound. Jon saw the man’s eyes widen and knew exactly who it was when he bent his head in a respectfully low bow. She came into the room like a whirlwind looking enraged and he had to stifle a smile. She wore the same dusky grey floor-length silken gown she had done at dinner, only she’d removed the heavy woollen coat she'd worn over it, revealing the fitted bodice below. She looked infinitely more striking now, with flushed cheeks and blazing eyes. Appearing a half-second later, Missandei stood behind her, wide-eyed. Daenerys spoke only to him.

 

“You told me the letter was from Arya. _‘Oh… just a personal note, that’s all’._ ” Her tone was mocking, she knew, but she was only repeating the same words he had spoken to her. Taking a breath, she watched Jon shift his focus between the two-other people around them: one to her side and one to her back. “Ser Davos, Missandei, I believe it would be best if the Queen and I spoke alone. Would you mind excusing us?” Ser Davos lowered his eyes, just as he’d done when she’d passed him on her way in. However, Missandei did not move or respond. Jon continued. “Missandei, would you be so kind as to return in a short while with some guards… to accompany Her Grace back to her own quarters? I do not think it wise for either of you to walk unaccompanied about this castle.” Knowing Missandei would only leave with an order from her, Daenerys turned and offered a single nod. As their small audience departed together, Daenerys heard Ser Davos kindly offer to escort Missandei to find the Queen’s Dothraki bloodriders or Unsullied. Finally, alone, Daenerys waited as the voices descended the stairs.

 

“You lied to me,” He flinched at the word _lied_ , feeling as if the word had cut him to the quick. “I did not,” he answered calmly. The only acknowledgment she gave for his response was a single, raised eyebrow. “There _was_ a letter from Arya, just as I told you. She wrote that she could not wait to see me, to tell me all she’d done during the years we’ve been separated. _Just as I told you_. What I failed to mention… was that she also asked me to ignore everything written in _Sansa’s_ letter. Arya said that she trusted me and my decisions. It’s actually funny that …” But the Queen was not there to listen to Jon jest about his family. Interrupting, she asked coldly, “so tell me, what did the letter from _Sansa_ say?” Her words she spoke with careful measure and Jon paused before he answered. “Just as you heard Lord Manderly say at dinner, she asked me to suggest to you that I remain _King_ in the North until the threat from beyond The Wall is neutralised. She listed many arguments why it would work in our favour…” She let him trail off. Daenerys had had enough, she felt betrayed. Every moment, every conversation they’d shared aboard that ship, rushed through her mind. All she could think of was what he _hadn’t_ said. “You came to my room, you had my full attention, you made me lose my mind every night, but now I fear it was just some ploy. That you were just trying to soften me up, fuck me into submission, so I’d concede when you brought it up.” Stepping closer to him, she lowered her voice to an almost deadly whisper. “Or, maybe you thought, if you were _good_ enough, if you made me _feel_ something for you, I’d offer you the North without you even having to ask.” Listening to the words escape from her lips, even she knew she was being ridiculous. But she had felt so blindsided at dinner and the feelings of anger had yet to abate.

 

“Incredible! You figured it _all_ out. You are exactly right.” Jon fired back, looking insulted. “I thought that in return for letting me spread your legs, for making you slick and slippery, making you _lose your mind_ as you put it... that you would allow the North to keep calling me ‘King’. Only… I never asked, did I! Must have fucked the thought right out of my own head, too. My, it appears you really do know me better than I thought.” The look he threw her almost broke her heart. _I’ve hurt him,_ _too,_ she realised instantly. He reached up and roughly unfastened his heavy, fur-trimmed cloak, before turning and walking away from her, through the archway to his right and into an adjoining room. Standing alone in his bed chamber, Daenerys waited. When he eventually returned, he’d removed his gorget and leather jerkin and stood in the tiny archway in just his shirt, breeches and boots. “I gave you my word…” he told her quietly. “To me, that was final. And that was exactly what I told Sansa.”

 

Leaning one shoulder against the cold stones of the archway, he brought a hand up and scraped it down his face. “I did not agree with her, so it wasn’t important. I also didn’t want for you to think ill of her when she only wants to protect the North, to make our father proud.” What the Queen did next, took him totally aback. She brought her tiny, fine-boned hands up and covered her face as a racking sob escaped her. Stood in the still-open doorway, Daenerys began to weep. He moved toward her without hesitation, shutting the wooden door with one hand while the other reached out to wrap around her. Feeling unsure of exactly what he should say, Jon decided the best course of action was to just _be there_ , so he took her in his arms and held her tight. 

 

“I don’t want to feel like this,” she cried, as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Tears ran down her face in rivets, then continued down her throat until they soaked into the neck of her silk gown. Turning, she buried her face against his chest, her hands running up and over his soft-worn shirt and gripping two handfuls. “I feel like the farther we travel North, the more control I am going to lose of everything I have worked for. I will get treated _like a woman_ , I will get side-lined and spoken over. And being kept at a constant arms-distance from you will only make it worse. At least when you talk to me you sound equally... out of your depth about the coming war and… and it just makes me feel better." Jon stood with her tiny frame wrapped in his arms, running his hand up and down her back, hoping he might sooth her in some way. “The fact I appear to know nothing is a comfort to you?” he enquired. Keeping her face hidden against his chest, Daenerys laughed and lifted a hand to wipe at the tears that streaked down face. She missed the ship. She missed the simplicity of their lives when they were stuck out on the open sea, nowhere else to go, nowhere else to be. At least there, they had been able to spend their days together, even if it was in secret. Now, with the eyes of the North upon her, waiting and watching to see what she would do, they could not risk upsetting anyone. “I missed you this evening,” she told him honestly. “I didn’t like that you kept Sansa’s letter from me, and I didn’t like that you left the hall so quickly after we finished eating." Lifting her head so she could say the last words directly to him, she finished, “I just wanted to speak with you.”

 

“I thought as much. Only, I didn't feel like being scolded in front of every high-born person in White Harbour, so I thought if you really wished to speak to me you'd..." Raising both eyebrows, Daenerys asked, "...I'd what?" He combed a hand gently through her silver locks as he told her honestly, "you'd either summon me to your chamber or confront me in my own..." Jon let the unspoken meaning behind his words hang between them, feeling his heartrate steadily began to climb. As it always did in the frenetic moments before they came together, the air around them became thick. He felt himself becoming even more aware of the woman before him. He saw the blood pulsing through the veins in her neck. He saw the way her hands, hanging loose at her side, repeatedly gripped and released the silken fabric of her dress. He watched her swallow just as her eyes flickered from his face to the bed across the room, then back again, the beginnings of a shy smile spreading across her lips. He answered her only with a minute shake of his head, slipping on his well-practiced, serious look once again. _I’ve got a much better idea_ , Jon told her, silently. His next command caressed her lips. “Follow me.” He ran his hand down one arm and reached for the hand before he walked away, dragging her behind him. From the bedchamber he led her, under the stone archway he’d disappeared through earlier to undress. The tiny room was much darker than the main chamber as it only had one small window. Jon continued guiding her until they stood before the lone window. While the window itself was small, it sat within a large alcove. The walls on either side gradually sloped, rather than sitting straight. Upon the window ledge sat a thick cut cushion bound in deep red silk, the colour still striking, even in the moonlight. Jon sunk onto the padded seat, pulling on her hand so she stood directly before him when he was settled.

  

“Now... lift up your dress,” he said calmly. Minutes ago, his ears had been aware of the sounds of men and horses from outside, commands and cries shouted across the courtyards below. Now though, he could hear only the sound of air as it rushed through his open mouth and filled his lungs. In. Out. In. Out. For a second, he thought she might not do as he’d asked, but then, her hands started to clutch at the fabric beneath them, her fingers collecting fold after fold of the silken layers. From beneath the rising hem, Jon watched her leather boots appear, followed by the bare flesh of her legs, the colour of milk. When her knees were revealed, she paused, prompting him to raise his eyes. “Did I say stop?” Jon enquired, the smallest hint of humour laced in amongst his serious tone. After shaking her head side to side, Daenerys started working the fabric higher once more. This time, she did not stop until her small clothes came into view. Cream silk, they appeared to float above her skin. Wanting nothing more than to see her hidden hairless flesh again, Jon reached out to grasp the delicate tie that held up the silk. Tugging at one of the laces, the tiny bow came loose, which allowed the silk to slip down her legs and pool around her ankles. Before him she stood with her dress gathered at each of her hips, held in place by the clutches of her own hands. All of her bare skin resembled goose flesh, apart from the skin between of her thighs and the tips of her folds, which glistened.

 

Daenerys held her breath, longing for him to touch her sex. But he never did. Jon took the soft grey fabric from her hands and began to collect it together in front of her. He twisted it, once, twice, thrice, continuing until it was all wrapped together. His face bore a look of such determination. Once he was satisfied, he looped it over the leather belt that encircled her waist and tucked it tightly beneath. Then he sat back and admired his work. The twisted fabric remained perfectly secured, leaving everything from her waist down totally bare. Raising his gaze upwards to meet hers, he gave just one, composed instruction. “Turn.” Looking at him, sat silhouetted against the moonlit night, she felt such desire it made her chest feel tight. _If I do as he says, he’s going to take me from behind_. So, she did just as a commanded and turned. Earlier, as they’d disembarked the great wooden vessel in White Harbour, the whole city had been lit by the light of the moon: full and round and glowing. It still shone so bright that it cast a soft glow across each of the stones in the walls that surrounded them. His trunk sat against one full wall, the leathers he’d discarded lay in a heap atop the lid. When she saw the reflection of herself in a tarnished mirror across the room, stood naked from the waist down, she gasped in shock. _Did he place a mirror there on purpose?_ Daenerys closed her eyes and tried desperately to calm her racing heart. She had never seen herself in this way before. Yes, she knew what her naked body looked like… but the way she was currently stood, on display, so obviously about to be… it made her insides tighten and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She startled when she felt him touch her leg, and opened her eyes just in time to watch his hand skim up the inside of her thigh. Without thinking, she parted her legs for him, hoping he would continue on until he reached her sex. However, he stopped just a shy, removed it, and wound both hands around her hips instead. Daenerys hadn’t even seen him release his cock from the confines of his breeches but when he dragged her down to sit on his lap he entered her in a single, deep stroke. A strangled moan spilled from her lips at the unexpected intrusion. Frantically, she reached out to grasp hold of the stones that jutted out from the walls of the alcove, to try to lift herself off his imposing shaft. As if he sensed it, he raised her up just enough to relieve some of the pressure, and held her still as he spoke. “Now tell me, my Queen. What do you see?”

 

What she saw was herself, staring back from across the room. Glancing down between her parted legs, she could see where his cock disappeared inside her. Lifting her gaze up, she saw the same thing reflected in the mirror. Just the thought of telling him this made her walls tighten around him. When she gave no answer, he loosened his grip of her waist and let her drop back into his lap, causing him to slide deep again. _Too deep_. Daenerys felt the muscles in her arms tense as she tightened her grip on the stones. Her head, she threw back until it hit one of his shoulders, letting out a desperate moan. “Us!” She yelled. “I can see us... in a mirror.” Sat perched on him like this, Daenerys could not touch the heels of her feet to the ground, and found herself desperately trying to remain balance on the tips of her toes. She had no way to lift her body up and off of his, leaving her entirely at his mercy. “And do you like it?” He said quietly, his lips brushing through her hair to speak directly into her ear. Slowly raising her head again, she studied her reflection _. I don’t know_ , she thought, so she told him. His grip on her hips tightened again, then he lifted her body up and off him until his shaft was fully unsheathed. “Now, watch,” he said firmly, slowing filling her once more. It thrilled her to both see, _and feel_ , his shaft disappear between her legs. She was also transfixed by her own face as he moved within her. Never would she have imagined what she looked like during sex, but she could scarce take her eyes off the image now it was before her. Still mostly clothed and sat in a castle alcove, Daenerys watched as Jon fucked her.

 

He only caught glimpses of her refection from his position behind her, but what he saw made his breath catch in his throat and his fluid movements falter. When she’d first seen herself in the reflection, she'd barely been able to look. Now, as he watched her, she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. Sometimes he caught her looking at her face, other times she stared intently at where he slipped between her folds. He enjoyed it most when he caught her admiring her breasts, moving in time with his trusts. It was as though he was seeing her discover a part of herself that she'd never known about, and that thrilled him most of all. When he’d walked into the tiny room to change and noticed the mirror, his very first thought had been about the utter waste of space a giant looking glass was to a man about to go to war. _As if I have the time to study my appearance before I leave a room_. But, then, another thought had floated through his mind. Jon thought about how she would look, reflected in that mirror, naked. Even better, he'd thought about how it would feel to watch while he fucked her. So, he decided to make it happen. While she stood waiting for him in his bed chamber, Jon had removed his gorget and leather jerkin and moved the mirror so it was better positioned. Then he’d walked out to face her again, hoping they could resolve the 'letter' issue with enough time to… spare. And time they seemed to have. He fucked her until his own arms felt weak. And when she came, the noises she made sounded more animal than human. 

 

Her lungs felt like they were on fire and her throat was scratchy and rough, as if she’d just run up a mountain without a drop of water to quench her thirst. Her walls clenched repeatedly around him, tight, in a vice-like grip, then loose. In a sudden moment of desperate strength, she lifted herself up onto the highest points of her toes, causing his cock to spring from within her. Once she was finally free of him, she let out a sigh of utter relief and fell back onto his lap with an audible _thunk._ Her arms fell heavily onto the cushion either side of them, weak from the efforts of holding herself up. Between her thighs, his cock stood stiff, still thick and heavy and wet. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder once more and her eyes fell shut. Panting, she sat atop him, insides quivering, desperate to catch her breath. 

 

Sitting there in the darkness, her half-naked body slumped across his lap, Jon still couldn’t believe this was the life he was currently living. At his back was a glass window, barely shielding the castle interior from the bitter cold outside. With her lying limp in his lap, to his front he had an unobstructed view of her in the mirror opposite them, and what he saw did nothing to quell the ache between his own legs. He’d released her waist when she’d fallen back into his lap after she'd lifted herself off his cock. He could see himself rigid and twitching between her thighs, the longing for his own release still blatant. Her chest heaved as she dragged air into her lungs. The muscles in her calves looked strained as she tried to balance herself on just her tiptoes, her feet unable to reach the stone floor entirely. Between her still-spread legs and obscured partially by his erect shaft, her cunt appeared to glisten in the darkness. _Now, it’s my turn to watch_.

 

Daenerys was certain she must have fallen asleep, for she didn’t fully realise she was being moved until she found herself on the floor, perched on her hands and knees. Looking down, there was no hard floor slabs, as she’d expected, but worn black fabric. Her hands were spread over pelts of fur, not stone. _His cloak, perhaps?_ Raising her eyes up from the covered floor beneath her, she came face-to-face with herself once more, only now her reflection was less than a foot in front of her, not across the tiny room. Raising her eyes higher still, she found him, knelt behind her, watching intently. While he held her gaze in the mirror, she felt the smooth head of his cock move along her slick folds, up and down, up and down, until finally, with the gentlest of pushes, he nestle himself inside her once more. Letting out a shuddering breath, Daenerys used up all her willpower to keep her eyes open and locked with his until he was fully inside her. She wanted to watch him watch her. She wanted to show him how he made her feel. She wanted to see how she gave him pleasure. Her insides were already aching, but she knew he had yet to find his own release and she wanted nothing more than for him to take what he wanted. When it all felt too much, when she was sure she would pass out from the feeling of him touching the most sensitive parts of her, he tightened his grip on her hips and cried out. She felt his hot seed release deep inside her. After he'd spent himself fully, he pulled her back with him, so the back of her thighs lay flush with the front of his. Then he sat back on his heels and lifted her up, her back pressed to his chest. In the mirror, they stared at each other, neither saying a word. When he skimmed his hand across her stomach and slid it down to the place where they were still joined, she moved her own hands quickly to stop him. “No more.” She heard herself beg. “Please.” Her voice was unrecognisable to her ears. In the mirror, she tried desperately to tell him with her eyes, as well as her words, that she could not take any more. “You have given me more than enough, I’m not sure I can take it if you touch me any more…” _If he touches me down there, while he still remains inside me, I’ll lose my mind_. As if on cue, a faint knock sounded at the door to the bed chamber, followed by the clear voice of Missandei. “My Queen, I am here to escort you back to your own chambers.” After the briefest of pauses, she added. “Whenever you are ready, of course.”

 

Slipping out of her and rising up off the floor, Jon waited to help Daenerys to her feet. He slipped his cock back into his breeches as he watched her shaking fingers pull the twisted silk fabric of her dress from where it had been secured under her belt. Shaking it loose, it drifted downwards, covering her pussy, her legs, her boots. Jon couldn’t help but notice the deep creases that now adorned the garment. She appeared to notice the same thing and he watched her begin to rub her hands over the silk, as if attempting to iron them out. “It’s no use,” he told her quietly. “The walk back will likely be dark, so no one will notice.” He was trying to stifle any anxious thoughts but judging from the look she gave him, it wasn’t going to work. She quickly gave in and he followed her out of the room, back into the bedchamber. While the tiny room had become warm and smelled of her, of  _them,_ his bed chamber was nothing more than a dank chilled room.  She turned to look at him, a timid smile pulling at the corner of her lips and sadness marring her eyes. “Goodnight,” she whispered quietly, just before she turned and pulled open the door. Stood at the threshold was Missandei, eyes lowered, patiently waiting for her Queen. He watched Daenerys nod to the Unsullied who lined the passageway, then throw a cautionary look back at him “Lord Snow,” she said solemnly, before she took Missandei’s arm and headed off in the direction of the stairway.

 

Clutching her friends arm tightly, she walked down the corridor towards the grey-stone stairway. Daenerys stopped just as her foot hovered above the first step, causing Missandei’s movements to falter. “I left… something, would you wait another moment, please?” Daenerys said, turning to her friend. Smiling, Missandei replied with a simple nod. She’d been in such a rush not to keep Missandei waiting, and not to drag out another farewell with Jon, she had walked straight out of the room without her small clothes. Daenerys knocked firmly on his door and, not bothering to wait for him to respond, pushed it open. Jon was walking from the tiny room where they’d... been, a piece of cream silken fabric clutched tight in his fist. Daenerys reached her hand out to collect them from him but had to stop in her tracks when instead, he tucked the fabric deep into the pocket of his breeches. “Did you forget something, my Queen?” He asked, loud enough that his voice would travel through the open door and along the narrow corridor to anyone in earshot. She considered her next move before she stepped towards him. “Only this.” She told him, equally as loud. Then she closed that gap between them and pressed her lips hard against his. Her tongue pushed forward to find his and she proceeded to kiss him with an almost desperate abandon. Pulling back, she whispered so softly that it tickled his lips, “you may keep them on one condition.” When he gave a nod in agreement, she continued. “You tell me what it is you do with them.” That made his whole face light up. Smirking, he answered smugly, “I look forward to it, My Queen.” Touching her lips to his one last time, she turned and marched back out the door. 


	7. Chapter 7

Ask me that again

 

 

She was dreaming about dragons again. Rhaegal was ducking and diving through snowy skies, having the time of his life. She felt content just watching him as he flew free. Looking around she did not recognise where she was but the longer she stood there, the clearer the circular towers started to become in the distance. It was just as Jon had described the great, granite castle of Winterfell. Then, from high up in the sky, Rhaegal screeched loudly, before turning and looking directly at her. He stared at her with such intensity it made her startle. “Wake up,” the dragon whispered. Only, when the sound reached her ears, it was Jon’s voice. When he flew closer towards her, his massive wings beat the air in such a rush the force caused her to fall back. “Wake up,” she heard him say again, before she hit the ground. Her eyes flew open, the length of the body tense as she prepared for the pain she would feel when she hit the floor. But the pain never came and no matter how many times she blinked, there was only darkness above her, not the white, snowy skies that she had stood under moments earlier. Beneath her was a soft, feather mattress and furs, not cold, hard earth. Daenerys touched the space on the bed next to her and felt retreating warmth, as if, only moments before, someone had been sat there. When a figure stepped forward from the shadows, fear gripped her, and she felt her throat close. She could scarcely breathe, let alone scream. When the figure took another step forward, revealing their face, she finally saw that it was Jon who stood in her chamber, a cloak clutched in his arms. For a moment, she was reminded of a dream she’d had long ago, a dream of a man who lay beside her, face hidden in the shadows. _What if it was him I was seeing, all that time ago?_   Stepping forward again, he reached his hand out towards her. “I want to show you something,” he whispered through the darkness.

 

They'd arrived at Winterfell only hours earlier, as the sun had set, and had gone straight to their retrospective chambers. While he had stayed in his room, Arya and Sansa had visited with him most of the night, choosing to supper with him there and leaving with the promise that Bran would visit him first thing on the morrow. Daenerys must only have been asleep for a few hours when he woke her, so he had expected more of a fight to break her from her slumber. But she moved herself from the bed after less than a heartbeat, allowing him to drape the heavy cloak over her tiny shoulders and place a kiss on her sleep softened lips. Taking hold of her hand, he led her across her bed chamber and into the small dressing room that adjoined it. From there, they descended down a set of stairs that he had revealed mere moments before - his secret way into the Guest House. She held tight to his hand when all the light finally left the tiny space and encased them in darkness. Hoping to quell any concerns she might have and fill the deafening silence, he started to speak, his voice just louder than a whisper. “Winterfell’s hidden passages were a constant source of amusement to me and my brothers and sisters growing up. Our father would scold us every time he heard us talk of our adventures through the secret passageways but in the same breath, ask where they were, how we found them, where they led.” When they reached the bottom of the staircase, he turned them left then immediately right, before continuing onwards. He had done this journey a thousand times and travelled it with confidence. “Robb and I used to get lost for hours in here. Literally, we got lost sometimes. Just as we’d give up all hope of ever escaping, we’d stumble upon a new passageway... or an old one we’d failed to notice the first fifty times we’d passed it.” As they walked, muffled voices could be heard through the darkness, sounding far off. Jon knew the truth, however, that they were mere feet from the people they could hear, only the space between them was filled by solid, thousand-year-old granite.

 

Daenerys stayed less than a single step from him at all times, and never loosened her hand from his for even a second. Without him, she knew she would be stranded, alone and lost, in the walls of the ancient castle. Only minutes earlier she had been dreaming of dragons, and now she was headed into the unknown, with a man who’d somehow slipped passed her guard and, essentially, stolen her away. She got the sense that they were descending gradually, though there were no steps below her feet. She realised quickly that the air was becoming colder and, all of a sudden, she could make out the shape of him walking before her. _Light!_ Turning this way, then that, they finally reached what appeared to be a dead end. Bars, covered in dense green leaves, blocked their path and stopped them from continuing any further. He turned and smiled at her before he released her hand. Without hesitation, he reached forward and removed the furthest three metal bars from their place, before sweeping the leaves to the side as if they were a curtain. “After you, Your Grace,” he said, bowing slightly before catching her eye and grinning at her. As soon as she passed under the leafy curtain and into the night air, she knew where he’d led her.

 

Stepping from the protection of the castle walls into Winterfell’s ancient Godswood did not unnerve Jon in the way he knew it did others. The ominous, dense canopy of trees sheltered the moss-covered ground below his feet. It also trapped the heat rising from the ground, causing the air to stay warm, no matter the weather. As boys, and even more so as young men, Jon and Robb and sometimes even Theon, would come to the Godswood in the dead of night to frolic in the hot springs. After sword fighting and overzealous, boyish fist-fights, aches and bruises and muscles that were allowed to soak in the pools fed from the ancient springs below the ground healed faster than those not. In the harsh and unforgiving lands of the North, there was often nothing so pleasurable as swimming naked in warm water. _Maybe now I can think of something better_ , Jon thought to himself as he looked at Daenerys. There was a time when Jon had dreamed, day and night, of swimming in the hot pools alongside another woman, and it was not the one whose hand he currently clasped tight within his. That woman though, with her hair kissed by fire, would never again lie naked in his arms. She was now and forever just part of the land. As if on cue, a hot hand squeezed his, causing him to look into the eyes of its owner: violet and wide and full to bursting with love. _For me?_

 

The godswood was vast, almost three acres of sacred forest. The moonlight overhead barely filtered through the dense covering of trees. After less than twenty steps though, Jon found that his eyes had grown accustomed to the odd sort of darkness and he began to make out the different tree species they passed by: pine, oak, ash, even hawthorn. The spring-fed pools were located next to the the sacred heart tree, and just a short distance from Winterfell's Guest House. Luckily, Winterfell’s current guest would not be disturbed by this late-night visit to the pools as she was walking beside him. When they entered the clearing, for a brief second he swore he could see his father, sat on one of the weirwood’s twisted, white, roots as he wiped down his great longsword, Ice. Shaking the image from his head, he turned to look down at the silver-haired woman at his side. “How long has it been since you felt truly warm, my Queen?” Breathing out an exacerbated sigh, Daenerys threw him the same look she always did after he called her ‘my Queen’ in private. Facing her fully, Jon reached up one hand to cup her cheek as he tried again. “My _beautiful_ Queen?” She shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Cradling her head in both of his hands, Jon leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “Dany?” The smile she wore after he said her name was radiant and stayed in place when she responded. “Probably not since crossing the Narrow Sea...”

 

Jon took off his shirt first, then tugged at each of his boots before he slipped his breeches down his legs. Not bothering to wait for Daenerys, he waded straight into the pool until he was about waist-deep, then he dove forward, ducking his head under the steaming surface and appearing, a second later, about six feet away. Turning to look back towards the waters edge, when he laid eyes on her, his heart stopped. Her white cotton shift slipped off her shoulders, catching briefly on the curve of her breasts, then her hips, then her backside, finally pooling around her feet. She paused then, allowing the moon to light her naked flesh. As she followed the path he had taken moments before, she never took her eyes from his, wading all the way in until her breasts rested, suspended on the surface of the water. Excitement mixed with his nerves, as he admired her, making his head feel light and his cock stiffen. He could feel the heat from the water slowing sinking in, through his skin and muscles, all the way to his bones. Her smile was contagious, so when she spoke, he couldn’t help but smile back. “Well then, _My Lord_. Now that you have me here… what do you plan on doing with me?” It was the last spark he needed to ignite the fire that burned within him. He cut smoothly towards her through the water until he could wrap his arms around her slippery body. Lifting her slightly, he gripped each of her thighs and brought her legs around him as she moved her arms to grip his shoulders. “Ask me that again.” Jon said to her, once they were nose to nose, cock to cunt. Swallowing audibly, Daenerys repeated her previous question.

 

He made her wait for the answer, so long it felt like a lifetime. But when he finally answered, she realised she would have happily waited a hundred lifetimes for him to say the words again. “I’m going to make love to you.” He cradled her in the same way she imagined he might an infant, held protectively against his chest. Beneath the water, his skin felt warm and slick and she moved against it with little resistance. His hands glided across every inch of her he could, stroking, caressing, rubbing and fondling. Between her thighs, he slipped: rhythmically, slowly, deeply. While their bodies danced below the surface of the water, above he worshipped her with his mouth. He kissed her lips, her face, her breasts, her neck. Then he started all over again. She found herself watching him: what he did, how he moved. It was when he wrapped his lips around her nipples that she couldn’t stop the whimpering sounds from escaping or the way her insides hugged him in the most intimate of ways. When she did it for the fourth time, she _felt_ him laugh against her breast.

 

Releasing the nub with an audible pop after her particularly loud and needy whimper, he whispered with curious amusement, “what is it you like _so much_ when I suck on your nipples?” The question appeared to take her aback somewhat. The number of times they had intimately explored one another was infinitely higher than the number of times they had explicitly discussed what they each liked, and why. She remained silent. Lifting Daenerys up until her erect nipples were at the perfect height for him to place his mouth around, he felt his cock slip from within her. He made sure to look at her as he leant forward, snuck his tongue between his parted lips, and flicked it across a tight nub. Then he circled it, round and round, before enclosing it between his lips just as a babe would do its mother. He continued to hold her gaze, heavy-lidded as it was, as he sucked long and hard at the sensitive peak, caressing her with the flat of his tongue. He knew she was enjoying his ministrations when she moved one hand to the back of his head, and pressed him firmly against her breast. Pulling back after he’d had his fill, he admired how dark and reddened the nipple he’d attended to appeared, in comparison to its rose-tinted twin. “Does it make you feel as if you’re nursing an infant?” Jon asked her quietly.

 

Glancing away, across the steaming water, Daenerys closed her eyes and nodded, as if the confession was almost too much to share. Reaching between their bodies as he let her slip back down into the water, he settled himself between her folds once more, before he spoke. “As far as I know, my mother never once nursed me after I was born. I watched Lady Catelyn cradle each new babe she birthed at her breast and it made me sick with longing. She would look at them with nothing but love, stroke their bare crowns as they fed from her. I used to imagine what it would feel like to be held and loved so much...” As he spoke, Jon cupped one of her heavy breasts in his palm, rubbing his thumb backwards and forwards across the bud. Even immersed in the heated water, her nipple still strained against the pad of her thumb, seeming to enjoy the attention it was receiving. “I like that you think of a babe when we are like this, when my mouth is on you there. I was starting to fear it was only me who relished in the feeling of suckling at you.”

 

Daenerys knew, as she looked into his eyes, that he'd never shared this intimate truth with anyone. Her behind cradled in one of his hands, her breast in another, she lifted her arms out of the water to rest her elbows on each of his shoulders. Her wet hands she weaved into the loose, dark, hair on the top of his head, brushing it back from his face. Like this, she was able to pull her own hips back and press them forward, dragging her sensitive flesh across the ridges of his cock, pressing him to the places inside her that brought her the most pleasure. Wanting nothing more than to match his confession, she decided it would be best while he was deep within her. “The feel of your cock inside me, be it my mouth, my pussy… it takes my breath away. Literally. Sometimes I forget to breathe.” Pressing all her weight into her elbows, Daenerys lifted herself off his shaft and then slowly sunk back down again, delighting at the sight of him losing his mind as she took control. “Your fingers, they reach places inside me that I didn’t know were there, you drag sensations out of me that make me question whether I still exist, or whether I've gone to another place entirely.” Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she mulled over her next words while she moved her hips back and forth below the water. “But your mouth, oh Gods…your sweet, _sweet_ mouth, Jon. When you kiss me, I feel it all the way down to my toes. Sometimes when your tongue strokes mine, I feel it in my cunt.” She leaned forward to brush her lips against his slack lips. “But looking down at you, when your mouth is at my breast, the feel of your tongue pressed to my nipple, the sensation of being suckled… that makes my womb tighten. I can think of nothing other than how it would feel to cradle a babe with dark hair and dark eyes as they drink from me.” Pressing another kiss to his lips, she finished by simply telling him, “you could make me reach my peak with nothing more than your mouth at my breasts and _that_ _look_ in your eyes.” Breathing heavily, Daenerys watched as an intense hunger grew in his eyes.

 

His feet were buried in the inch of fine silt that lay beneath them and he lifted each awkwardly in turn as he made his way out of the pool. He moved his hand from her breast to join the other under her backside. As she realised he was moving them out of the pool, she dropped her hands from his hair to wrap around his back instead, clingy to him tightly. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice quiet and her breath condensing instantly in the cool night air. He barely felt the chill as he walked them naked from the pool, heading towards the heart tree. As he walked, he bent to fetch both their dark cloaks from where they’d been left on the moss-covered bank. Finding a space between two thick, tree roots, Jon threw both cloaks down before he knelt, with Daenerys. “What look?” he asked her, as she settled herself back into the padded crevice he’d made. “The same one you’re giving me right now.” She answered, cryptically. Jon covered the length of her body with his own, settling his lower half between her legs and his chest against her stomach. Each breath that left his lips caressed her chest and breasts as he waited for her to clarify. Finally, as if she was sharing her most hidden secret, she whispered nervously, “as if you are in love with me.”

 

Jon’s heart started to thump hard in his chest, so hard that she felt the pounding reverberate through her pelvis, which lay below. When he started to shake his head, she felt sick. _He’s going to say he doesn’t feel the same way... or he’ll tell me that this is all going to be too difficult._ But, instead, he smiled up at her and said, “I _am_ in love with you,” right before he took her warm, rosy bud in his mouth and proved that she had been correct all along: he could make her come with just his mouth on her breasts and love in his eyes. As she floated back down to earth, Jon crawled up her body, navigating the small space between the two great roots of the weirwood that shielded them. Daenerys watched him for a moment before she dipped her eyes to look down between his legs. Hanging thick and heavy, his cock pointed directly at her sex. “Your turn,” she told him, knowing he was only a few pumps from his own release and wanting him deep inside her when he did. Grasping him firmly, she guided him towards her slick entrance, only releasing him when he took over and pressed his head inside, followed quickly by the rest of his shaft, until he was buried to the root.

 

Jon looked down at her and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Old Nan used to tell us that bathing in the pools in the godswood, before the eyes of the Old Gods, was the antidote to even the most serious afflictions. Once, she even tried to claim that it could cure greyscale...” He felt nervous as he pulled out of her and closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts, as he pressed in again. His balls felt painfully tight and his cock twitched sporadically, desperate for release. “I thought… maybe... bringing you here might help you with… might help you to...” His bravery seemed to shrivel under the heat of her stare and it made the words he wanted to say catch in his throat. As he continued to move over her silently, she brought her hand to his face and stroked his cheek softly. “I am so in love with you, Jon Snow. Everything you say and do makes me more so... which is also why I must ask... I thought you didn’t want to risk fathering a bastard…?” It was as if her declaration, coupled with her question, gripped him by the balls and spurred him to drive into her, over and over, until he finally exploded. After catching his breath, he kissed her as tenderly as he could while he contemplated making his most private confession yet. It was only when he thought about the possibility of another man filling his place: at her side, in her bed, in her heart, that he finally knew it was time to speak up. “Our child will never be a bastard, Daenerys. Our child will be a Prince or a Princess, they will be created with love, and destined to rule over a land their mother saved from almost-certain doom and destruction.” He kissed her firmly, one last time, before he pulled out and away from her, avoiding her gaze in the hopes that she wouldn't wish to speak any more about what he'd just revealed. Looking over his shoulder he located their clothes and moved to collect them. He'd taken less than a step away when he felt her take his hand. “And their father,” she said, her voice unwavering. At the sound of her uttering the word ‘father’, he turned back to look at her, his throat tight and his eyes stinging.

 

“Our child,” she repeated, pulling herself up and standing before him, totally nude. Placing his hand flat against her stomach, she covered it with both of her own as she spoke. “Our child will be a Prince or Princess... and they will be created with love... and destined to rule over a land that their mother _and_ _father_ saved from almost-certain doom…" she assured him, stood beneath the shelter of, and under the watchful eye of, the ancient weirwood heart tree. "Their mother _and father_ , together.” She repeated, one last time, before she wrapped her arms around his neck and reached up to press a kiss against his smiling lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

They asked me about you

 

 

 

Under the blood-red leaves of the weirwood heart tree, Jon helped her dress. She didn’t ask him to, or even need him to, but he did it all the same. Stood naked in the moonlight, watching him methodically search for the front of her shift, Daenerys was unsuccessful at stifling her giggle. When the noise erupted from inside her, he shot an irritated look in her direction before looking away again, back to his hands as they continued to investigate the soft fabric. Still warm from the heat of the pool, the frosty, early-morning air felt good as it gently caressed her skin and she took a moment to appreciate all the different parts of her body that ached because of the man stood before her. She felt her insides contract, followed quickly by a dull ache that settled low in her belly. When he finally stepped forward, garment at the ready, she tried to exude as much confidence as she could. Tilting her chin upwards, she puffed out her chest and held her breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart. Her arms, she raised slowly from her side until they loomed above her head. While she never tore her eyes from his, he didn’t even try to hide his blatant admiration of her figure. Slowly and precisely, he raked his eyes down her body, then up again, almost burning her skin with his smouldering stare. He lingered momentarily on the juncture of her thighs, her waist, her breasts, and lastly, her face. Jon held her gaze, the lump at his throat bobbing when he swallowed, then he shook his head quickly from side to side, as if trying to banish some lingering, unwanted thought.

 

“What is it?” She asked quietly, feeling her self-confidence wane ever-so-slightly as she braced for his response. The godswood was so deathly quiet, Daenerys swore Jon would hear her heart pounding in her chest. Appearing as nervous as she felt, Jon looked around them, first to the steaming pool and then into the dense woodblock. When he finally spoke, his voice matched her quiet volume. “I just can’t help but feel, in these moments, a… a sense of fear. It grips my very core.” Lifting her cotton shift up, he helped her slip her arms into the sleeves one at a time, then guided her head through the neck. When he released the fabric, he paused and watched it fall to the floor. “But… why?” She pleaded. Reaching between them, she took his now-free hands with her own. He tried to answer half a dozen times before an exacerbated sounding sigh escaped him. As if no other response was going to be possible in that moment, he took hold of her and kissed her with a fierce passion that stole her breath from her lungs. Pulling back only slightly, he rested his nose to hers, and finally continued. “I am completely terrified that I am going to wake up at any moment and find that _this_ is not a reality… that it’s all been some sort of a dream… that you are just something I created in my mind. It does not matter how many times I get to kiss your lips, or lay my eyes upon your flesh, or feel you shudder and tremble beneath me… I am yet to let myself truly believe it’s all real… that you are truly _mine_.”

 

Sharing his thoughts with another person was something so new, it made him more anxious and uncertain of himself than the build-up to any battle ever had. _Maybe I said too much this time… revealed too much?_ He shut his eyes to prevent her from glimpsing the fear he knew was crammed into them. Every second that she remained silent allowed his doubts to creep in and start to consume him. His mind became irrational and he began to second guess every look and intimate moment they had shared. Finally, cutting through the darkness, came her voice, needy as a child begging for attention. “Please, will you look at me?” Not able to deny her anything, he opened his eyes. “I _am_ yours,” she told him earnestly, as soon as he met her gaze, “just as you are _mine_.” Pushing herself up onto the balls of her feet she kissed him softly, reassuringly. “Maybe it would be easier if we told people about us… trusted people…your family perhaps? They are unlikely to want to share the news…” As her voice trailed off, Jon could only close his eyes and nod his head vigorously, the lump in his throat so large he could barely swallow, let along speak to answer her. “It would allow us to stop hiding when we are around them.” She added, as an afterthought.

 

Once the decision had been made, she sensed a huge weight had been lifted from Jon’s shoulders. Hoping to lighten the move, she raised her brows. “Now…” she teased, “are you planning on getting dressed too, or will you be remaining nude?” Laughing, he moved to where his own clothes lay in a heap near the pools and Daenerys got to watch him slip back into his breeches and shirt. While she slipped her now-dry feet back into her boots, he did the same. Moving back in her direction, he continued passed her, back towards the weirwood. Bending, he retrieved both their cloaks from between the white roots, shaking the dirt and leaves from hers before draping it about her shoulders. After fastening the clip around her neck, he ran his thumb over the Targaryen sigil that had been stamped into the leather of the strap. “Sansa?” He questioned, sounding mildly amused. Shrugging her shoulders, she told him only what she knew: it been waiting in her chambers when she’d arrived last night. “Definitely Sansa then,” he confirmed with a nod. Shaking out his own cloak, more dirt and leaves fell to the floor. When he wrapped it around himself, he continued, “she made this one for me too, only mine obviously has a different imprint on it.” Standing opposite her, his face contorted into a some-what puzzled look. “What I cannot decide is… did she do it out of kindness _or_ as a subtle reminder to everyone of who you are…”

 

A breathy chuckle escaped him when she furrowed her brow. _What does he mean, who I am?_ His warmth engulfed her instantly when he stepped up to her and cuddled her close to his chest. “That you’re a Targaryen,” he said, peering down at her. Although he spoke without venom or malice, his words still felt like a stab to her heart. She was enormously proud of her name, of her family name, and all that she had achieved, but that didn’t stop her from feeling utterly alone at times like these. While he proudly wore the sigil of his own house in the knowledge that he was one part of a family who shared his blood and history, there was only one of her. She snaked her arms around his back beneath his cloak, linking them as she turned her head to the side and pressed her cheek flat to his chest. She was hiding some-what, she knew, but her thoughts would be displayed so plainly across her face and she did not want him to see. When he pressed his lips softly to the top of her head, she closed her eyes and savoured the feeling. “You are not alone anymore, please don’t ever think that.” His words flowed over her, warming her insides. Sheltered below the sacred tree and wrapped tightly in his arms, she considered what her idea of family might look like in this new place she found herself.

 

Jon knew that morning was fast approaching, and what would likely happen when dawn arrived, but he was unwilling to return Daenerys to her chambers quite yet. Hoping she felt the same, he suggested they take a walk around the godswood before heading back through the hidden passageway. “I’d love that,” she answered, appearing equally as glad for the additional time. What she did next made his throat tighten and his heart squeeze: Daenerys took him by the hand. After a life of longing to be close to another person, somehow this small act felt more intimate than each and every time they had shared a bed. His mind flashed to the moments in his childhood when he’d watched on with envy as his Lord Father and Lady Caitlyn slipped quietly away from big crowds, linked by clasped hands. It was the gentle squeeze she gave him that managed to drag him from his past. “Do you still pray… to the Old Gods?” She questioned. Nodding in response, he noticed how the gentle squeeze he gave her hand prompted a look of relief to cover her face. As he lead her through the dense wood, he joked, “probably not as much as I should during these perilous times,” feeling joy swell within him when another giggle erupted from within her.

 

They walked through the wood, talking about everything from his childhood experiences with his brothers and sisters, to his time up at The Wall. Jumping from past, to present to future, then back again, Daenerys only piped up when she had a burning question or needed clarification. Weeks on Dragonstone had been wasted while they’d danced around each other, and even in the time since leaving, he had not been particularly talkative. Home appeared to be just what he needed to start opening up and it was a pleasure to behold. From the way he spoke of them, she knew his siblings were the most important thing in his life, and protecting them was paramount to his own happiness. The way he spoke of his youngest sister, Arya, caused her stomach to flutter. _He speaks of her with such paternal love…_ “So, how was it? Seeing her last night?” She probed softly, feeling breathless when his face almost split in two from his smile. “It was more than I could have ever dreamed…” he answered, his voice cracking as he spoke. Stopping in his track, he turned to face her before he continued. “We promised each other that we would not speak of the coming war, the dead… of anything bad last night. That we would take it just for us. We spent hours… _hours_ … reminiscing about our siblings, our Father, their Lady Mother, our childhood… of happy memories and silly fights. We all agreed we would re-live a hundred thousand bad times if it meant we could go back. If we could have _them_ back.” Sighing, he slipped his free hand from beneath his cloak and ran a single finger from the top of her forehead, along her hairline and down her cheek until he reached her chin. Clutching it between his thumb and index finger he tilted her face up. “They asked me about you.”

 

Daenerys felt her stomach slowly sink. _What did they ask? More importantly… what did he say?_ Seeming to read her mind, he went on. “I told them they would have to make their own judgement about you but that I would appreciate it if they could keep their minds open for the time being… give you a chance. I told them you were not your father and that I would not have given the support of the entire North to anyone lightly.” She found it too difficult to swallow with her face tilted upwards so she gently tugged her chin free from his grasp and cleared her throat. Choosing to focus on the dark hairs of his chest that poked out from the collar of his shirt, she asked nervously, “and what did they say to all that?”

 

“Well,” he started, knowing she would likely have something to say about his next revelation. “Sansa agreed to my… terms…” When he didn’t elaborate she raised her brows. He knew whose opinion she was more interested in hearing. “Arya wanted to know only one thing… exactly how long it was that I had been in love with you…” He had been correct, and her reaction to his words was immediate. Her eyes grew wide, her brows shot up even higher than they had been, and her mouth hung slack. “How did she…?” He shrugged his shoulders, causing the fur trimming of his cloak to tickle the lobes of his ears. “What can I say, my little sister still knows me better than anyone else.” The look on her face turned from one of shock to one of surprise, then plain amusement. “We are as bad as each other… Jorah asked me the same question after we made the decision to travel North… together!” That made Jon laugh out loud. “Maybe we haven’t been as good at hiding as we originally thought!” They moved off again, and Jon noticed the trees up ahead had become clearer as the sky above them lightened. Hesitating slightly before speaking, Daenerys’s next question was about why his brother had been missing from last night’s sibling reunion. “The girls said he has been very tired as of late. He has… a sort of… gift. They say it allows him to see things that others cannot. They tried to explain it to me but I get the feeling that Bran will need to explain it himself. They did say he will be an integral part of the coming war.”

 

Ahead, Daenerys spotted a white bench in a snowy clearing. She could not tell if it was made of marble, or stone, but it blended almost entirely into the backdrop of snow-covered trees. They were less than an hour from sun-up now, as best she could tell, and it made her feel slightly nauseous thinking about what was to come. “Can we sit?” she asked him, nodding her head towards the bench. He nodded then followed her lead, helping to brush away the inch-thick layer of snow from the beautifully carved bench. “It’s made from weirwood,” he informed her as they brushed away the snow, revealing the beautiful carvings hidden below. “No one knows how long it has been here, but as weirwood never rots, it could be as old as Winterfell itself.” He sat first and reached his right arm out, opening his cloak to allow her to fit against the warmth of his side. When she was settled, she muttered almost to herself, “I just want to savour this peacefulness.”

 

With her next to him, held tight to his side, Jon knew there was no better time to disclose the one thing that had been on his mind since their conflict at New Castle the prior week. “Daenerys, I must tell you something… only, I want you to wait until I’ve finished explaining before you say anything.” She did not look up at him or say anything, but she nodded her head once to acknowledge she’d heard him. Taking a deep breath in, he thought one final time about how to best explain himself, before finally, he spoke. “I received a letter from Bran during our journey North. It came along with the letters from Sansa and Arya. You said Missandei noted how thick the scroll was when it arrived, well… she was correct, it was three sheets of parchment. One from each of my siblings. You already know what Sansa and Arya said, but… I kept the contents of Bran’s letter concealed.” He felt her tense next to him and mentally braced for her to pull away, to fill with rage once more, to accuse him of lying to her as she had done the last time. When she relaxed, he knew she was giving him a chance to explain, just as he’s asked. “For good reason, though. It… it was about my mother.”

 

When he finished his sentence, when she heard the words ‘my mother’ float through the disappearing darkness, she sucked in a breath. She was learning little pieces of information every day about his past and his present, his hopes and fears, that it rarely caused her to react. But she knew, of all things, his mother was one topic that had never been discussed. When he didn’t elaborate, she couldn’t help but quietly breathe out, “what about her?” She felt him swallow, heard him suck in breath after breath after breath until finally she pulled back so she could look at him, look at his face, check he was okay. When her eyes locked with his, she saw they were brimming with tears and she felt her chest tighten. “Bran said… he said he knows who she was… he said that he could tell me when I returned. Bran said that everything I think I know about my mother, about the circumstances around my birth, are all wrong.” She felt transfixed, as if a spell had been cast over her and she couldn’t move or breath or speak. The man she once thought of as stoic and solemn and unfeeling was currently making her heart crack inside her chest. It was only when he reached up to wipe away the tear that had spilled out from one eye that the spell broke. In that moment, all she could think to ask was, “what do you think he means?”

 

Surrounded by tall, snow-covered sentinel trees, Jon stared straight ahead at the path they had taken through the woods, hidden in parts by blown earth and snowdrifts. The still, silent air made it seem as if they were sat in a timeless place between two worlds. _What do I think he means?_ He replayed her question over and over before he spoke, and then it was as if he had no way of stopping the words escaping from within him. “I was never told anything about my mother, by anyone… but Gods…I dreamed of her often. Sometimes, I swear I thought so long and so hard about her, I even started to see her face. She was _so_ beautiful… she was highborn… and she had the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen. Part of me knew I was being foolish, but another part constantly pondered why I was so quick to brand my version impossible. Part of me always yelled back ‘why can’t she be exactly what I dreamed’. Men have fathered bastards since time began, my father was not the first and will certainly not be the last. But… if she truly was _just a nobody,_ then… why didn’t he just own to it? Such a huge part of his Lady wife’s agony came with the _not knowing_. Lady Catelyn never could understand what caused him to stray so soon after their marriage and she _hated it_. It’s why she hated me. She had to resign herself to being jealous of a ghost, which was a punishment much greater.”

 

Living or dead, he had a mother. Whether or not his own Father had chosen to confide her identity to his wife mattered not to Jon. It only mattered that he’d never confided her identity to Jon. So many things about the time of his birth remained shrouded in secrecy. It started with his mother’s identity and meandered on to where he had been born, how his Father had ended up returning to Winterfell with him, and why he had the name ‘Snow’ when every account of his Father’s journey home put Jon in the picture long before they stepped foot past the Neck. Jon had run question after question after question through his mind and had yet to answer a single one. _What if my name isn’t even Snow? What if I’m a child of The Crownlands and supposed to be Jon Waters, or worse The Reach and should be Jon Flowers?_ He had grown to like his name now; Jon Snow had joined the Nights Watch; Jon Snow had been steward to Lord Commander Mormont and had gone on to be appointed the 998 th Lord Commander of the Nights Watch; Jon Snow had lead the fight to reclaim Winterfell from the Bolton’s, and Jon Snow had been declared King in the North. He had also taken the risk to travel south and meet with the Dragon Queen and had, against the odds, managed to rally her to the Northern cause. And that same Dragon Queen had told him she loved him that very night. The excitement Jon felt about finally discovering the secret to his heritage was marred only by the fear that it might not be the news he was hoping for. _What if she was a nobody, who didn’t want me and who is now dead? Then I am just back to being an orphaned bastard once again._

 

 Daenerys heard every silent thought that passed through his mind, she felt the internal turmoil he was going through and wanted to do something to show him she was there for him, whatever his brother revealed. Slipping from the comfort and protection of his side for only a few seconds, Daenerys stood, then immediately moved to straddle his lap. She placed a hand on each of his shoulders for support as she slid her left knee onto the bench beside his thigh, making sure to tuck it within the shelter of his cloak. Quickly realising what her intentions were Jon reached out and clutched two handfuls of her shift, raising it enough to allow her right knee to perch on the bench next to his other thigh and her behind to rest comfortably in his lap. Her own cloak, still draped about her slender shoulders, hung all the way down to the floor, meaning they sat, completely surrounded by grey spun wool and fur. Faces less than an inch away from each other, minutes of silent conversation passed. Just below her, nestled between her parted legs, she felt him twitch and stir. It had not been her intention when she climbed into his lap, to start something, she had only wished to be as close to him as possible. But now, as her heart rate began to steadily increase, the thought of having him again, in this sacred place, made her insides tighten in anticipation.

 

Slowly, methodically, and within the cocoon created by their heavy cloaks, he ran his hands up and down her thighs, marvelling at the smoothness of her naked flesh. Every time he got close to her sex, she would hold her breath, almost in anticipation of what he would do next. When he had lifted her shift to help her straddle him, he hadn’t really thought of anything other than how much easier she would find climbing into his lap if her shift was moved out of the way. Now, however, his cock sat snugly between her parted thighs and separated by only the thin fabric of his breeches, little else consumed his thoughts other than burying himself in her once more. He knew when she removed her hands from his shoulders and glided them down his chest, past his stomach and to the laces of his breeches, that his wish would soon become reality.

 

She took her time, feeling her way to the knot that he’d tied at his waist. Blindly, she unpicked it slowly, brushing her fingers lightly over his hardness and enjoying the way his breath faltered and his eyelids sank every-so-slightly whenever she did. Loosening the laces enough so she could pull open the waist of his breeches, she felt, rather than saw, his cock spring free from the confines of the fabric. Enclosing the stiff member in her hands, she worked the slack skin up and down. After just a couple of pumps, Daenerys inquired quietly, “can I ask you a question?” His face broke into a smile so lovely that she would do anything in her power to see every day for the rest of her life. The playful look he gave her just before answering, was so boyish and carefree, it caused her stomach to flip. Trying, and failing, to sound serious when he responded, Jon answered. “You wish for permission… to ask me a question... while you hold my cock in your hand?” Lifting one shoulder up slightly, hinting at a shrug, she started, “well…” before taking another moment to think about how exactly she should explain herself. “I know there’s a familiarity, a closeness, between us that allows us to be intimate and to enjoy one another physically…” As she spoke, she continued to drag her hand up his shaft, stopping when she reached the tip to rub her thumb over the smooth head before descending again. “But… I still don’t feel I can talk to you about everything that comes into my mind. I don’t know how you’ll… react. What if what I want to know is something you don’t wish to discuss. The last thing I want to do is ruin something that means so much to me through my own inquisitiveness.”

 

Struggling to focus on little other than the activity between his legs, he detached his hands from her thighs and moved them to still her hands, as he desperately begged, “could you just stop _that_ for a moment, please?” She offered him a shy smile, followed by a single nod, then unwrapped her hands. His thoughts finally able to clear, Jon tried to think of a question that he would not wish to answer, an aspect of his life that he wanted to remain hidden for the woman balanced on his lap, but he could not settle upon any. In that instant he realised, there wasn’t a single thing he would not feel comfortable revealing to her. The way she kissed him when he stated exactly that was unlike any kiss they’d ever shared. It was as if she was trying to possess him, to climb inside him and take up residence within his very being. Lips pressed hard together, teeth knocking against teeth, tongues stroking and vying for dominance, it was a kiss he knew he’d never forget.

 

Wanting nothing more than to eliminate every inch of space left between them, and knowing full well that today of all days, every memory of being close to him would be needed, Daenerys lifted herself up onto her knees and hitched up her shift to reveal her bare sex. Not missing a beat, Jon took hold of his still-hard shaft and held it steady as she sunk back down into his lap. Their simultaneous cries echoed in the still air that surrounded them: his deep groans and her throaty moans telling the story of their pleasure. The fullness he provided when nestled deep within her forced the air from her lungs, leaving her feeling both winded and lightheaded. Head thrown back, she allowed herself a handful of long, drawn-out, seconds to enjoy the unparalleled sensation of her muscles stretching to accommodate him. His lips brushed up and down her throat, his scratchy whiskers sending shivers down her spine, right to her core. Grasping a handful of his curly hair, she yanked his head backwards and looked down at him, panting heavily. “So… I can ask you _anything_ I want to?” She breathed out. She felt his hands snake along her bare thighs and smooth around to her buttocks. Taking a firm grip of each cheek, he lifted her up and off his cock, then dragged her back down again. “Anything,” he answered, when he was fully sheathed inside her once more. Smiling, she squeezed her insides around him in an intimate hug and swallowed his desperate groans in a gentle, languished kiss. “Hmmmm… maybe later,” she breathed against his lips, causing his eyes to widen and his brow to rise. “I’ve got something much more important to do first.”

 

Jon tried to help her move over him, but really, this was her show and she made it clear his help was not needed. She placed a hand on each of his shoulders to steady herself and tossed her head back once more, unabashed noises pouring from between her lips whenever he speared her. Hoping he could add to her pleasure in some way, Jon brought his hands up to the thin strings at the neck of her shift and continued to loosen them until her breasts hung free. On her next downward stroke, he wrapped his arms around her torso and took hold of her tightly, allowing him to lean forward and wrap his mouth around a taught nipple. She only allowed him a few crude pulls before she tugged his mouth away, shaking her head at him as she resumed her movements once more. Jon decided to relinquish control and sat back to enjoy the view of her tits bouncing up and down before him, as she used his body to pleasure herself. She rocked back and fore, side to side, up and down. She did it over and over until his balls went taut and he knew his own release was imminent. Hoping they could fall over the edge into bliss together, he reached under her loose shift and found her firm nub, circling it gently with his fingers. At the exact moment she fell, her eyes locked with his and she gasped suddenly. Her sex quivered and tightened around his twitching cock, milking every drop he had to offer. When she slumped against him, he shut his eyes and let himself bask in the moment.

 

She eventually pulled herself back from him and he had to take a deep breath to try and bring himself back down to earth. Something caused him to startle. Turning his head to the side, he sucked another breath in through his nose. “Do you smell that?” He asked, turning in the other direction and inhaling once more. “Smell what?” She answered, a slight trace of concern in her voice. He turned to look at her, and spoke cautiously, “I think I can smell… blood.” Growing up, he had been cut and scraped on a daily basis, but it was the moment he plunged his sword into another’s body to end their life that ensured he’d never forget the tangy iron scent again. _But why would I smell blood… here, in the Godswood,_ Jon asked himself, desperately attempting to solve the mystery before Daenerys became any more alarmed. Her face was full of concern, until… it wasn’t. Climbing off his lap, she stood before him, her breathing sounding increasingly heavier as time slipped past. She stared down between his legs, then, bizarrely, she lifted her shift and reached a hand between her own. When she brought it out again, the tips of her fingers were streaked with red. He felt sick. Had he done that? Had he injured her some way? Peering down, he saw his own cock was tinged with pink. Looking at her face he felt even more confused. She looked… pleased?

 

Sat in his lap, she had been aware of how wet she was between her legs, but had thought little of it. Just the thought of him was always enough to get her aroused, and her body reacted especially quickly when he was so near to her. The mention of blood had tugged on something at the back of her mind. Almost as soon as she thought it, she’d pushed it away. _Impossible, it’s been…. a year, longer_. _Maybe he was wrong_? As the seconds slipped passed and no other explanation arose, she began to think about the wet feeling between her legs again. She thought about the cramping she’d felt in the pool… and as they’d walked through the Godswood. There was only one way she could be sure though. So, she stood. She knew as soon as she saw his cock what it was but lifted her shift and reached her hand between her legs, just to be sure. She couldn’t bear to look at Jon, knowing he was watching her, and no doubt wondering what she was doing. Only once she’d thought about what it meant, could she finally look up at Jon. “It’s my moonblood,” she said quickly, “only my moonblood.”  She’d added the ‘only’ to try to reassure him. Looking back down at her fingers, she rubbed the reddened tips together. “But… I shouldn’t say _only,_ since… I haven’t had my moonblood in a very long time. That’s why… well, it’s part of the reason why I’ve been so sure I couldn’t have children.”

 

Jon knew how a woman’s courses worked. He knew that once a young girl had flowered she was considered a woman grown: ripe for marriage. He knew that woman bled each month and that when they stopped, it was unlikely they would bear another child. The status of a women’s bleeding and capability for breeding was discussed by men just as openly as battle plans and taxation. If what Daenerys said was true, if she had not been bleeding regularly for a while now, that was possibly the reason behind her… difficulties. It quickly dawned on him why this had made her so happy. The reminder of that brought Jon back to his senses and he moved quickly to wipe himself in his cloak, tucking himself back into his loose breeches once he was clean. Standing, he tied a quick knot in the laces, desperately willing his mind to focus on the matter between her legs.  Sweeping up another handful of his cloak, he reached out and wrapped it around her blood-steaked fingertips. When he pulled it away, they were milky white and clean once more. “Let me get you back to your chambers,” he said quietly, taking the hand he’d just cleaned in his own. “I’m sure you would like to clean up before the day begins.”

 

She allowed herself to be lead back through the wood, her mind whirring. If she was bleeding again, then maybe it meant… maybe she would finally be able to carry a child. She could barely allow herself think about it, let alone truly believe it. They reached the hidden passage before she knew it, and Jon released her hand to pull aside the curtain of leaves. After they’d stepped through the gap, she watched him replace each of the metal bars once more, noticing the careful precision with which he worked. _Just like when we make love_. Every step they took through the dark, she thought about the blood between her legs and what it meant. By the time they’d reached the top of the stone stairway that lead back into her chamber, she’d thought through every possible explanation. Tugging on Jon’s arm, she stopped walking and waited until he’d turned to look at her before she spoke. “Do you think it was the water? I… I feel as if there can be no other explanation.”

 

Looking down at her, Jon felt his heart squeeze. This tiny, silver hair woman standing before him had just been given a real slither of hope that she just might one day be able to become a mother. A mother of a human child, not just to her beloved dragons. Whatever the reason for this change in her monthly courses, he was thrilled. “I don’t know for sure if it was the reason.” He said softly. “Only that it’s happened and I am immeasurably grateful. Come now,” he said as he gestured towards her chamber, “I will send for some hot water and instruct your guard to wake Missandei if you’d like.” Leading her from the dark stairway into her room, Jon drew her against his chest and held her tight, kissing her crown. “I’m sorry about what happened,” she whispered, sounding embarrassed. “To say it caught me off guard is an understatement. I never thought I’d ever…” He felt rude cutting her off, but he couldn’t allow her to continue apologising for something she had no control over. “Daenerys, stop. Please! Blood does not bother me, and it will certainly not scare me away. I know full well what it means, which is even more reason to celebrate this happening and not apologise for it.” Pulling back, he stared deep into her eyes. “Tell me what you want, my love, and it’s done.”

 

When Daenerys had arrived at Winterfell the previous night, it had felt cold and unwelcoming. The fires had been lit, the candles had burned all around making it as inviting as possible, but it was still so foreign and unknown to her. Jon had not been with her when she’d settled into the soft sheets atop her bed, so she felt no sense of relief or relaxation, even after the long days and nights of hard riding they’d done to get there. But now, as the morning light began to filter in, Winterfell felt like the happiest place she had been in a very long time. The castle even reminded her of Jon: grey and hard to look at, but in reality, warm and welcoming and comforting when you got close. It was the place where he told her he loved her, the place where he’d talked about his mother. It was the place where she had bled again. Even with all the doubt and uncertainty of the coming war, the coming wars, one thing was certain. He loved her, and she loved him. “I’d like some water but I can sort myself out, I’d really like to be alone for a little while.” Walking with him toward the door, his hand held tight in her own, she felt as if she was floating on air.

 

“Are you quite sure?” Jon whispered. “Is there nothing else I can do for you before I leave?” He was not worried about her dealing with the practicalities of the situation, more the emotional aspect. He felt helpless. It had obviously come as quite a shock to her and, even after his reassurances, there was still an obvious element of mortification in what had happened in the godswood. Her eyes softened in response to his fretting and her palm gently cupped his cheek. “The only thing I want now, is for you to go and see your brother. I know how much you have missed him and what an important conversation you need to have. Whatever comes of it, I will be right here,” as she spoke the final words, she pressed her free hand over his heart. “Now go, I will see you in the Great Hall, unless you have need of me before then.” 

 

Jon left her with the reassurance that, no matter what news his brother revealed to him today, he was loved. He instructed her guards that she wished for as much hot water as they could provide. He also had to brush off their attempts to question how he had gained entry to a room they had guarded all through the night. A simple, "this is my home, that's how,” quieted them quickly. The castle itself was just waking up even though he had yet to go to sleep. Each and every person he passed, bowed their head and muttered a quiet 'Your Grace', causing his steps to falter every time. Weeks of offering the same compliments to another, it felt odd hearing people address him with that title again. As he walked, he pondered how the meeting with the Northern Lords would play out later on that day, how they would feel about accepting Daenerys as Queen and him as Warden of the North. In his own mind, none of it mattered while the threat from the white-walkers still loomed over their heads and endangered all of their futures. Outside Bran's room, he hesitated, fear stopping him from lifting his hand and alerting his brother to his presence. _Do I really want to know about my mother? After all this time, does it really matter?_ "Come in, Jon." A voice said from the other side of the door, soft and low. _How?_ Swallowing, he reached out and grasped the door handle. Twisting it, he pushed the door open and stepped into the fire-lit room, finally coming face-to-face with his brother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Where is he?

 

 

Watching him address the Northern Lords, her heart thumped so hard against her chest Danerys was sure it was reverberating throughout her entire body and into the seat she was perched upon. He answered, rebutted, corrected, and sometimes even jested the men and women who brought forward a concern. She watched him deal with each of them with the same humble, unwavering, authoritative manner that he had done her these past months. When he'd first walked into the hall, he had seemed distant, unfocused even, but once the meeting was underway he quickly fell into his stride. _What had his brother told him?_ Daenerys had spoken up when questions were directed at her, or when Jon himself had directed them towards her. But for the most part, today, she was happy to take a back seat. Tyrion felt that Jon was the best person to navigate how involved she was in this first, tentative, meeting. So far, at least, it seemed to be working.

 

As he called an end to the meeting, a measure of weight lifted from his shoulders. _Well, they haven't killed me yet... or her._ Flicking his gaze towards the silver-haired Queen to his right, he hoped she too would be pleased with how the afternoon had unfolded. When their eyes met, her face remained stoic, giving little away, but in her eyes the relief was clear. While the Northern men and women were not happy, that was nothing new. They had listened to him as he, once again, explained the coming threat. They even allowed Daenerys to speak, with barely an murmur between them. As she spoke, Jon had looked around at their faces and thought about all the times he had watched, almost mesmerised, as she commanded a room. This time felt different though. The feat was so much more impressive when, for the first time, her audience was over a hundred hard, pissed off Northern folk just waiting for a reason to hate her.

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Absentmindedly tracing the crease between the stone wolf's body and its newly forged head, Jon stood at the entrance to the Winterfell's crypts. Thoughts ran free and frantic through his mind, one never stopping long enough to settle before another knocked it aside and tried to take hold. Every so often someone would pass him and offer up a greeting, interrupting his thoughts once more. Over and over this happened until the one who greeted him was the one he had been waiting for. Dressed in a dull, rough-spun woollen cloak, she had slipped unnoticed across the muddy courtyard solely by keeping her head low and her hood up. She could not conceal her voice though, that was unmistakably. Startled from his pondering, she spoke soft and simple. "Your Grace." He could hear her smile, hidden though it was beneath her hood and he wanted nothing more that to push it back and press a kiss upon her sweet lips. But this was not the time or the place. "Follow me," he said gruffly, turning to walk through the stone archway and descend down into the crypts.

 

Daenerys followed him down the damp steps and into what appeared to be a long underground tunnel. At the bottom of the stairway they came across four armed guards, stood unmoving beside Ser Davos. "Your Grace," Ser Davos nodded, eyes darting between them. _Which one?_ Daenerys mused to herself, knowing Davos was likely being vague on purpose in order to play it safe. After handing Jon a lit torch, Davos stepped aside, muttering a simple 'you shan't be disturbed by anyone' as he did so. Jon replied only with a curt nod, turning round to look at her before reaching out to take her by the arm. When she hesitated, the smile he offered was small and barely visible, but it was all the reassurance she needed to follow him. They'd taken barely five steps before he brought them to a halt, turning to glance into the darkness to their right. Speaking as if to himself, Jon said quietly, "you stay here, Ghost." Daenerys followed his gaze, her eyes desperately grappling to pick out anything in the darkness until finally, two deep red eyes emerged from the darkness followed by the immense outline of a white wolf. Still and stoic, just like his master, the wolf stifled a whimper, padding a paw repeatedly on the stone floor. "Good boy," Jon continued, as if an understanding had been reached following a silent conversation between the only them. Stepping off once again, Jon lead her forwards into the endless darkness.

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Standing before the looming statue of Lyanna Stark, his words washed over her, bringing with them a mixture of conflicting emotions. " _She was my Mother_ ," he'd said, " _and she was here with me all along_." Daenerys had felt such happiness for him in the moments following that first revelation, then followed bewilderment. "So… if Lyanna was your mother, that would mean…" before she had even finished, Jon had continued. " _Eddard Stark was my uncle, he… took me in… he protected me."_ As before, she spoke before she'd had time to think through the words she was saying. "Protected you from whom?" His answer knocked the wind from within her, causing the historic and seemingly contradictory puzzle to suddenly align. " _Robert_."

 

Jon knew that it would only be a matter of time before she understood what he was trying to tell her, and then realised the ramifications of it. The exact moment came in the form of a sharp intake of breath and a look in her eyes, so lost he feared he might never find his way back to her again. "Please… can you just say something? Anything!" Jon's voice shook, as he pleaded with her to give him some sort of response. "I know this must be difficult, I can't imagine what you must be thinking right now, but Daenerys… please! I beg you, please say something." She stepped forward and kissed him, hot and frantic and desperate. She took fistfuls of his hair, dragged him closer to her, as if trying to climb inside him. Her tongue pushed into his mouth and moved against his as if in battle. The whole thing was desperate and gave him hope that they could move passed this. And then, just as quickly as she'd started the kiss, she pulled away. Then she backed away, turning to face the wall opposite the solemn statue of his mother. _My mother!_ He didn't dare move, barely breathed even. Seconds passed with only the sound of his pulsing heartbeat throbbing in his ears. Moving forward until he was stood directly behind her, he said her name, once, a plea for her to answer him. But she remained silent. Reaching around her, he slowly ran his fingers down over her coat until he reached the place it parted. Slipping one hand through the gap he caressed the juncture between her thighs with a single finger. When she didn't speak, didn't react in any way, he pressed his whole hand hard against her soft flesh, rubbing forward then back, hoping she'd give him something. Momentarily submitting, she allowed him a few brief seconds before halting his actions with a single word. "No." Jon stopped, his blood instantly chilling in his veins, each breath escaping short and ragged. Again, the silence stretched. "Not here, not like this, not… now." Her voice was tiny. He snatched back his hand and stepped away, averting his eyes when she turned to face him. "I'm sorry," she continued, before pausing to ponder her next words. "I'm going to need some time to… think about… everything you've just told me… what it all means…. You've had at least some time to wrap your head around this, Jon. I can't even believe that it is real." Stepping towards him, Daenerys reached a hand out before stopping and dropping it back to her side. "I just need some time… to think… to work this all out… please understand that." At that, he looked into her eyes and nodded, something inside him hardening, preparing himself for the worst. "Of course. Let me show you the way back, Your Grace." Turning on his heel, he lifted the torch from where it had rested in the wall cracked and began the short trek back to the entrance to the crypts. Thankfully he didn't need look back to check she was following him since her light foot steps sounded like an ominous drum at his back.

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Staring up at the ceiling, Jon had spent the last few hours desperately trying to force himself to sleep, to make it take over him and send him into the sweet abyss where his mind would stop spinning, even if just for a short while. Today felt like the longest day of his life, with yesterday merging into today at some point during the night while he and Daenerys had been in the Godswood. This morning, in the early morning light, Jon had made love to the woman he had dreamed of one day calling his wife. Then his brother had revealed something that would change his life forever. ' _Only if I want it to'_ , Jon thought to himself for the thousandth time since learning the truth. _Bran had said, 'only if I want it to_ '. There had been no doubt in Jon's mind when he learned the truth about his parentage that he must tell Daenerys. Of all the people in this world, this affected her almost as much as it did him. _I don't regret it,_ he told himself. _I don't. She had to know. I could never keep this from her._ Darkness almost swallowing him, save for the single flickering candle across the room, Jon lay, bone heavy, knowing that sleep was about as likely as the Great War ending without another soul dying. Being a bastard had offered Jon protection for so many years that it's removal left him open and exposed in a way he never had been before. What he quickly came to realise was that being told he was worthy of certain things didn't alter his self perception one bit. As Bran had revealed his mother's identity, his mind had done the rest. The ambiguous stories about her disappearance and death, and the involvement of the Targaryen Prince, had never sat right with anyone. But who dared question honourable Eddard Stark? He came back from Roberts Rebellion having lost so much already that everyone took his word as final.

 

Winterfell was smaller than many of the splendid buildings Daenerys had had the fortune of residing in but what it lacked in size, it made up for in perplexity. Each time she thought she had gained some handle on a route between two points, she found herself lost and confused about how she had ended up in the wrong place. She had been placed in the Guest House, along with a small personal guard, Messandi, and Tyrion. The latter were both fast asleep and she was not about to wake either to inform them of her need to abscond. Her guard she had simply slipped passed using the passage between her own chamber and Missandei's. Tiptoeing passed the sleeping woman, she had been able to walk straight out the unguarded door. From there she had followed the maze of passageways towards what she thought to be his chamber. Now though, she was lost and alone, a highly unadvisable situation for a Targaryen under a Stark roof. _Ha_! _T_ _hey should all be used to it really, having had one under their noses for the past two decades,_  she mused to herself before remembering the slightly dire predicament she found herself in.

 

From across the room, Jon heard Ghost whimper and whine, followed by quiet scratching at his chamber door. For such a large animal his companion had the capability of being so gentle. Hoisting himself from his bed, Jon padded across the floor to where the wolf was waiting. In the past two days the pair had had to reacquaint with each other after spending so long apart. It wasn't unusual for the wolf to need letting out during the night, but tonight he seemed particularly desperate to escape. Just as the door was pulled ajar, Ghost slipped through the gap, into the stone corridor, and disappeared out of view. Shutting the door, Jon turned to face his bed and ran a hands restlessly through his loose hair. _She should be here with me, not alone in another corner of this castle._ Knowing sleep was unlikely to take him but having little else to do at this late hour, Jon forced himself back towards his bed. Climbing onto the mattress and settling his back against the solid wooden frame he closed his eyes and pictured Daenerys walking into the pools in the Godswood to join him. Eyes closed, he took hold of himself and began working his fist up and down, praying he might find some relief in this endless night.

 

The sound of footfalls on stone was unmistakable, and caused Daenerys to frantically look around for somewhere to conceal herself. In every direction she was faced with endless, dark corridors and not a door in sight. When the person was almost upon her, she pressed herself as far back behind a stone pillar as possible, lowering her head to hide her face and hair under her hood. A few seconds later, the footfalls had ceased. Slowly, Daenerys lifted her head, her breath catching in her throat as she came face to face with Jon's dire wolf. Stood before her, his eyes were almost level with her own. Before she could stop herself, she spoke. "Where is he?"

 

When Jon had lived at Castle Black, he had found ways to pleasure himself: childhood memories of woman sat outside whorehouses, drunk men telling tales about what they had done with their wives in the privacy of their chambers, his own pathetic imagination. Jon had known what a woman's body looked like when he left for the Wall and he had always been able to think of things he would like to do to them, or what they might do to him. Not until he met Ygritte did those thoughts become a reality though and he was able to see part of what he had been missing for all those years. But nothing could have prepared him for H _er_. Whether he needed to thank the Old Gods or the New, the Lord of Light or any other higher power, Jon did not know. What he did know was that _She_ had been made for him. In all of life's great complexity, that one thing was simple. And it seemed tonight, his faithful companion was trying his damn hardest to keep her from his thoughts and in turn stop him from getting the sweet relief he needed. Pushing out of bed once again, Jon walked towards the sound of Ghost whimpering and scratching at the door, throwing it aside roughly. Before him, almost swallowed by the blackness, stood the same silver-haired Queen he had just been trying to imagine with her mouth wrapped around his cock. "Have you been waiting for me," she said quietly, lifting her eyes from his staining cock. Her smile almost split her face in two. Jon stepped back, away from the door, and kept walking until the backs of his legs hit the edge of his bed and he sat down with a thud. Ghost disappeared once more down the corridor and into the night as Daenerys stepped into his room, turning to shut and bolt the door after her.

  

Rooted to his spot on the bed, Jon could only watch as she slowly unclasped her cloak, letting the heavy material slip from her shoulders and pool at her feet. Another step forward and she was untying the delicate laces at the neck of her shift. When that joined her cloak in a heap on the floor, all that was left covering her milky flesh was a pair of silk smalls. Her chest heaved in time with his own, only each breath she took caused her breasts to roll - a visual he could enjoy for all his days to come. Even in the little light the lone candle was providing to the room, there was a clear flush to her skin, from her cheeks, down her neck and spread across her chest. Finally, she slipped the silk small clothes down her legs, revealing her glistening pussy.

 

She could _feel_ the air around them, filled with the smell of him but thick with the heat that was radiating from each of them. As she took her final step towards him, he spread his thighs further apart, inviting her in. Swallowing audibly, he reached for his cock and gripped it in his fist, mindlessly tugging at the straining shaft a couple of times before releasing it, his eyes never shifted from hers. "Were you thinking of me?" She asked him, suddenly feeling shy. The laugh he omitted sounded frustrated and his face contorted as if in pain. Sighing loudly, he shook his head. "Daenerys... I think of you, and only you, every waking minute of the day. Even in the dead of night when tiredness long should have taken hold, you are on my mind. And now you are here, having appeared at my door. Someone, somewhere has answered my prayers and delivered to me, stripped to your bare flesh.” Pausing only to take a deep breath in, Jon continued, “I lay here all alone, desperately attempting to conjure your imagine so I could find some relief, and now..." As if talking about it had reminded him of the throbbing between his legs, he reached again for his cock and flinched when he wrapped his hand around it, sucking in a sharp breath as he slowly moved his hand, from the base to the tip, over and over. 

 

"Stop that.” Finally, she found her voice. "You exhaust yourself trying to conjure my image and then, when I do appear, you want to pleasure yourself." Reaching down, Daenerys removed his hand from where he had wrapped it, being careful not to touch his sensitive flesh. "Lie back," she instructed calmly, one hand pushing against his chest, urging him backwards. He gave in, falling back onto his elbows but went no further. "Daenerys, we must talk first. Surely there are things you wish to discuss?" Daenerys thought for a second about how to answer him and then decided to ask him the same question she's asked herself before coming to find him. "Would you have done anything differently? If you had your time again... with me... Would you have done it differently... had you known... all those weeks ago?" The time it took him to answer felt as long as the journey from the Great Grass Sea to the shores of Westeros. But really, it was less than a hearts beat. "Nothing," came his answer, steadfast and full of love. "If I had my time again... if I'd have known... I would still have come to you that night. That night, I learned the true meaning of home." And then there was only movement. Lips pressed against lips. Hands tracing secret paths along open plains of skin. Breaths shared, one to another. It truly felt like she never ended and he had no clear beginning.

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Tears streamed down her face as she rocked her hips back and forth. They had been connected, by some means or another, for an immeasurable length of time. She had stopped counting the times her insides had trembled and clenched around him. Her throat stung as she tried to call out, as she tried to express what she was feeling. He was sprawled out below her, holding tight to her hips as if holding on to life itself. Straddling him, knees resting either side of his body, he had been helping to guide her movements when she had grown too weak to keep going. His legs stretched out before her, spread apart on the bed. Reaching down between her thighs, their thighs, she felt him slipping into her, wet and taught. Even further down, she cupped his balls, full and heavy and in need of release. From behind her, Jon groaned, a weak and feeble sound. Desperate to see him, she stilled her movements. Pressing and holding him deep inside her with her hand, she turned to look over her shoulder.

 

If death took him soon, as it likely would, he hoped this would be the one image he might keep... to hold onto in the afterlife. They had been exploring, rediscovering, each other in ways that were both familiar and new, all at the same time. But buried deep inside the woman he loved, in the room he turned from babe, to boy, to man, in made him feel things he could never have imagined. He feared, come morning, neither would have any voice left within them to utter a single word. She had crawled into his lap and guided him between her slippery folds and used her body to tell him that, at least between the two of them, everything was going to be just fine. And he had tried his damn hardest to do the same thing for her. At some point he had found himself watching as he disappeared, over and over, between her parted thighs, silver hair tumbling down her back and brushing against his midriff. She had straddled him many times before, but always facing towards him - tonight, for the first time, she had turned her back to him with a sly smile, a gentle kiss and a quiet "I think you will enjoy this" whispered against his lips. And enjoy it he did. As she looked back over her shoulder at him now though, having brought him close to his release over and over and over again, he made a silent plea. Sucking in a ragged breath, he felt her gently caress the base of his straining shaft, pressing him deep inside herself. The look she gave him told him she knew he could not take this sweet torture much longer.m, and her words confirmed it. "You're going to want to hold on for this."

 

Turning away from him, she felt his grip on her hips tighten even more. Releasing the hold she'd had on his manhood, Daenerys shuffled her knees into a more comfortable position, then walked forward on her hands until she could take hold of his toes. Lifting her body, she felt him almost slip from within her. Smiling to herself, she slowly filled her lungs. That's when he pulled her back down with such force that it caused her to scream all the air from inside her. As she came down onto him, she tugged hard at his toes and was instantly rewarded with the sound of his own desperate cries. Daenerys swallowed, before taking in another breath, lifting her hips, reviling in the feel of his shaft drag against her tender flesh. Back down he pulled her, and hard she tugged at his toes. The noise he made this time sounded inhuman. Below her, his legs twitched and trembled. She never wanted this feeling to end and yet she almost couldn't bare it for another second. _This is love._  Behind her, he sat up and wrapped both arms around her torso, holding her tight. Sliding one hand down between her legs, his fingers had barely grazed her throbbing nub when their bodies started to shuddered and shake, bound as one.

 

After, she fell back with him, lying damp and heavy against his chest. Blindly, he helped to lift each of her knees to straighten her legs out either side of his own. The action caused his cock to slip from within her, producing a bereft cry. The sounds of their fucking now gave way to the sounds of them both desperately trying to catch their breath. Jon felt a slight chill between his legs as his cock lay exposed in the open, wet and limp. Her head lay alongside his own, her cheeks damp with sweat and tears. It was only now that Jon noticed that the lone candle that had lit his room had gone out, leaving them in a room so dark that he could not see a single strand of silver hair on the head of the woman that lay atop him. Across the sheets, her hand found his and she grasped hold of if with what little strength she had left within her. Lifting it, she rested it gently on the space between her breasts and navel. Through the infinite blackness her voice travelled, spent but sure. "Our child will be a Prince or Princess... because of their mother _and_ their father."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Honestly... I don’t care what you say

 

 

Never had he allowed himself to hope or dream as freely as he did that night. With the woman he loved curled at his side, fingers moving like ghosts across his marred chest, Jon’s thoughts ran away with such speed and insistence that he simply could not contain them. Every now and then he would speak, an idea, a thought of how their lives might someday look. He could feel the happiness radiating from her as he spoke. Her flushed, naked flesh prickled, becoming pinker and pinker as he talked of their future. Very now and then she shifted herself and turned her face up towards him, as if to check he wasn’t jesting with her, that he was serious, that they really might live the life he spoke of.

  
When his quiet murmurings ceased, when she was quite sure he had drifted into the abyss, she extracted her limbs from his and slipped silently from between the bed covers. As she stood, her weight shifted into her lower limbs and her thighs shook, the nights activities felt in every single muscle. When she finally built up enough energy to place one foot in front of the other, she moved herself across the room in the direction of his wash stand. His chambers still almost entirely shrouded in darkness, she practically walked into the wooden stand, reaching quickly to still the pewter jug as it wobbled noisily. Turning back towards the bed, she waited, listening to see if she’d disturbed him, but the seconds slipped passed silently.

  
In the darkness she could only rely on touch to find what she wanted, blindly feeling for the soft cloth she knew he kept somewhere beside the basin. Having found it, she slowly dipped it beneath the surface of the water, a gentle thrill running through her when she discovered it to be even colder than she had hoped. Sucking in a breath, Daenerys lifted the sodden cloth and before she could stop herself she pressed it between her legs, her teeth digging hard into her bottom lip to try to keep herself from crying out. _How I love that man, she thought, but… Gods how his need for me and mine for him ravages my poor cunt._ By the time she placed the cool cloth against her folds for the third time, she could feel the throbbing subside and let out a relieved sigh. _A couple more times and I’ll finally be able to sleep!_ So focussed on the task at hand, she didn’t even notice the sea of warmth permeating the air at her back.

  
He hadn’t made a noise crossing the room. Stood just a single step behind her, he listened intently through the darkness as she soothed herself, his heart squeezing every time she sighed or whimpered. _Is she in pain, or does it feel good_? He knew he would need to reveal himself soon and took his chance as she dipped the cloth quietly into the basin, hoping the already slightly disturbed silence might limit the shock. “Are you alright, love?” Jon rasped out, through the blackness. Blind though he was, he was able to picture her reaction based on the following sounds: a sharp sucked in breath, a clank as the basin was knocked across the wooden wash stand, and a loud splat as the wet cloth dropped to the floor. Crouching quickly, Jon felt around until he found the lump of cold fabric, deciding he knew exactly how he was going to help.

  
Barely recovered from the shock of being caught out of bed, Daenerys’ heart beat furiously as Jon stepped against her back and reached around her. She listened to the water in the basin slosh noisily about and before she realised what was happening, he placed the dripping cloth against the apex of her sex before sliding it downwards, painstakingly slowly, parting her folds. Oh, how she moaned, how she revelled for the millionth time in the joy of finding a man so capable of being so tender with her body. Encompassed by him now, he pressed her body back against his and held it there, his right hand holding her steady between her thighs and his left hand spread across her stomach. “Are you sore?” He whispered, directly into her right ear. “Have I caused you pain?” Shaking her head from side to side, she needed no time to think over her words before she spoke them, the traces of fear in his voice worrying her somewhat. “You have done nothing I would not beg you to do another thousand times over, Jon. Please, do not fret… I am ... more sensitive at the moment and thought a little wash before I slept would help things, that is all. Please… don’t fret.”

  
Removing the cloth, he dipped it back into the cold water before quietly asking, “more?” Feeling her nod in response, he immediately got to work, sliding the soft fabric gently against her sex, hoping that every second that passed, her discomfort would lessen. For the most part, she let him do as he wished but as he went back for a fourth time she stilled his hand and helped him release the cloth. Turning in his arms, she pressed a kiss to his lips as she wound her fingers into his mess of curls. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for loving me so much.” And then she was gone, her fingers trailing down his body hinting at the direction she was headed.

 

 _Dawn_ , she thought absentmindedly as her knees settled on the damp flagstones, light finally slipping between the cracks in the shutters and dancing across all it touched in his chamber, including him. Before her stood his cock, jutting straight out as if it were stood to attention. _Well… you certainly have my attention_. Chancing a glance upwards in the hope she might catch a glimpse of his face, she was met with a view she hoped she’d never forget. Staring straight down at her, eyes wide, there was an abundance of emotion spread thick across his face. Daenerys could see and hear each heavy breath he took, the sound akin to those Ghost made when he’d come in from hunting. Ragged, desperate, panting. Wetting her lips, she took hold of him firmly in her left hand, holding him steady while she ran the flat of her tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip.

  
The noise he made when she slipped the engorged head of his cock into her mouth made her insides twists and her thighs press together. When she tasted his salty essence, felt it pool on her tongue, she hummed with happiness. Popping him noisily from her mouth she met his frenzied eyes before she spoke. “Have I ever told you what a magnificent cock you have, Jon Snow?” Needing absolutely no response from him, Daenerys continued on without pause. “Not the biggest I have ever laid eyes upon... but that matters not. It is thick and heavy and when you lie with me... by the love of all the Gods… new, old… you know how to use it.” Lifting herself up off of her haunches and onto her knees, Daenerys held his length off to the side as she planted a soft kiss onto his stomach. “Since my cunt is in need of a little break,” she said, turning her gaze back up to meet his, “would you like to fuck my mouth instead?”

  
Only minutes ago, Jon had been asleep, dreaming of fierce winter storms and fire breathing dragons, long summer nights spent with his favourite, naked, silver-haired beauty. Now, Jon stood with said naked, silver-haired beauty on her knees at his feet enquiring whether or not he would like to fuck her mouth. _Do dragons grace the skies outside my window? What exactly do I say to that?_ Being a simple Northern man at heart, Jon decided to answer with a simple, gruff ‘ _yes_ ’. Her responding smile sliced deep into his flesh and sent his heart into another pounding frenzy. Carefully, he pushed her silver trestles away from her face and tucked them over her shoulders. Taking hold of her head in his hands he ran his thumbs across her eyebrows and around her eye sockets, then down the sides of her nose, until he reached her sweet mouth. “Open,” he commanded, as the skin on his hands was gently caressed by each of her breaths. As instructed, she parted her lips, wider and wider, until her mouth sat agape, ready and waiting for him.

  
His thumb slipped passed her lips and into the wet heat of her mouth, brushing across her tongue, soft and gentle. The next command made her eyelids droop and her thighs squeeze together once again. “First, you will show me what you’d like to do.” Daenerys felt like she’d been lit on fire. Accepting the challenge, she lavished his digit with everything she would his cock, knowing that was exactly what he wanted. She worked him until she felt breathless enough that she had to pull back to gulp down air. Moving back towards him, she intended to pick up where she’d left off. Instead, she watched him wrap one hand around his twitching cock, while the other snaked around the back of her head and guided her forward. When his silky smooth tip finally nudged against her lips, he spoke again. “Enough practice.”

  
On the outside he sounded cool and calm, maybe even authoritative, but he was just playing her game. On the inside, Jon was split into a hundred thousand pieces. Split from taking care of her and split because she allowed him to so willingly. Split from watching her kneel before him now, worshiping the very essence of his manhood. Jon felt no shame in the fact that he would do anything for Daenerys Targaryen. She moved up and down him with feverish abandon, using her hands and tongue, her lips and even sometimes, her teeth. The longer it went on, the more times he hovered on the edge of his climax, the more wild he felt himself becoming. Finally pushed too far, he took ahold of her firmly by her hair, pressing himself forward, until her nose pressed up against his body. He watched her closely for signs it was too much but she just looked straight up at him with heavy lidded eyes and made a satisfied, low humming sound at the back of her throat. Crying out, Jon pulled back, marvelling at the sight of his cock emerging from between her lips, red and swollen and wet.

  
“Again!” She cried out desperately, heaving in a breath through her wide-open mouth. Looking unsure, he held her just slightly away from his cock but she lifted her hands and gripped his behind, pulling him forward. Back into her mouth he slipped, burying himself to the root. Her tongue, she pressed hard to the underside of his cock. His balls, she rubbed together in her palm. As she had done before, with him deep in her throat, she hummed, low and long. And once again, he lasted no longer than a heartbeat before he yanked himself free, a frantic moan emitting from deep in his chest. “Is it too much?” She giggled, sitting back on her heels and wiping a shaky hand across her mouth.

  
Several drawn out seconds passed in silence, save for the sounds of his own gasping breaths. What he wanted to say was that he could never have too much of her. So, he did. What he wanted to do next was spill himself across her milky chest. So, he did. It took no more than four pumps of his fist before her breasts were spattered in his seed. Still shaking from his climax, he used all the strength he had left within him to lift her onto her feet and move her to the nearest wall. Facing her away from him, he place each of her hands against the cool stone wall before dragging her hips and legs away. With her body now angled forward, her arse checks parted slightly. Once he had her just where he wanted, he took each of her round buttocks in his palms and began kneading them. Then, without any warning, he pulled back one hand and brought it quickly and sharply down against her flesh, thrilling at the sound it made. The shocked yelp that followed only added to his pleasure.

  
With each smack of his hand, Daenerys tried to stifle the cries that poured from her, but it was no use. Teeth clenched, lips squeezed together, teeth pressed hard into her bottom lip, it made no difference. Ragged, desperate cries escaped. _Gods it hurts!_ Each time the flesh of his hand connected with the flesh of her behind she felt like he was touching her soul. Asking him to stop didn’t even seem like an option. She felt herself flush hot with the intimacy of what he was doing. Stopping to wind a chunk of her hair around his fist, he gently pulled her head back until she was able to catch a glimpse of him: stood, stoic and steady, behind her. When she heard his voice, quiet, shaken, and cracking with each word, her heart almost burst with love. “I’m gunna taste your sweet little cunt now, love. You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” Releasing his grip on her hair, he didn’t move an inch until she responded: an tiny, weak nod of her head. But it was all the reassurance he needed to fall to his knees behind her. Moving to rest her forehead against the cold, hard, stone wall before her, Daenerys awaited the oblivion she knew was coming.

  
Settled on his knees, Jon allowed himself the chance to admire the view before him. The insides of her thighs were glistening with the evidence of her arousal, the lips of her cunt were actually dripping, and to top it all off, even in a the dim dawn light, her arse cheeks were clearly glowing deep red. Jon knew she would not last long once he touched her, so he knew he’d have to work with considerable restraint in order to drive her as crazy as she had just done him. First he took hold of her ankles and slowly followed an invisible path straight up the backs of her legs with his thumbs, until finally, he reached her behind. Once there, he took two handfuls of soft flesh and opened her up wider, blowing a steady stream of air across her exposed folds. The resulting moan made his weary prick twitch between his thighs. As if saying a final prayer, Jon closed his eyes and lent forward to press his lips to the red flesh of her behind, the heat from her skin as hot as flames. Then, without wasting another moment, he moved forward, plunging his tongue deep into her.

  
Whether she had cried herself hoarse or whether she could just no longer hear herself over the sound of her blood pumping in her ears, she did not know. She could barely comprehend how he had managed to play her body so masterfully and yet with such tenderness. Lapping and sucking and probing at her like he was on a one-man-mission to find what made her scream the loudest. At one point she had looked down her body through blurry eyes as he lifted one of her legs up and off to the side so he could duck under it. Twisting around, he sat on the floor beneath her bent over body, his legs outstretched between her parted ones. He’d glanced up at her for only a second before turning his gaze back towards the tufts of silvery hair that grew at the apex of her sex. She could only watch, mouth hanging lose, as her parted her folds to reveal the little nub he’d been unable to reach while behind her. Then he wrapped his lips fully around it. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to get lost in the feel of him circle and suckle and hum against the most sensitive piece of her. When it was over, when he finally pulled his mouth away from her, she knew it was Jon who was keeping her from collapsing to the floor, her legs having given in as the waves of pleasure had ripped through her.

  
Shuffling himself back towards the wall, Jon helped to guide her body down onto his until she was straddling his lap. Exhausted, her head lolled forward, her right cheek coming to rest against his chest, directly above his heart. Her arms hung loose and limp at her sides. The sight of her calves and thighs quivering uncontrollably made him smile. Not that she saw, her eyes hadn’t opened once. Allowing his head to fall back against the stone, he closed his own eyes and breathed deep, basking in the memories of the night. Sat still like this, he enjoyed the feel of her body stuck to his, the only movement in the room the rise and fall of their shoulders. The hairs on his chest shook with every breath that escaped from her lips, acting as a rhythmic reminder that time still edged onwards.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

The first thing she saw as her eyes flickered open was his milky white chest, scattered with dark curly hairs. Beyond him was the disturbed wash stand, knocked off at an odd angel, the floor around it covered in water. Beneath her, he slept heavily, faint snores sounding with each breath he took. _I have to pee,_ she thought suddenly, a somewhat desperate feeling taking hold of her. Peeling herself away from him, she waited a moment to see if she’d woken him before scrambling off his limp body and moving to find the chamber pot. Preparing herself for the likely burning feeling she would get as she relieved herself, she was pleasantly surprised when the deed was over without so much as an uncomfortable twinge. Back at the wash stand she found a fresh cloth and dipped it deep into the water jug, knowing it would be cleaner than the water currently sat in the basin. As she washed between her legs, she looked down at the man on the floor next to her, still sleeping soundly. He sat slumped against the wall, head back, mouth open. The sight made her beam. _If I didn’t know any better, I might think he were dead,_ she thought, amusedly. _But, I doubt dead men still have stiff pricks_! The result of that thought was a barely contained giggle, followed by a very startled corpse.

  
While he hadn’t forgotten a single moment of the previous night, Jon still experienced a rather long period of confusion in the moments after he awoke. It had been getting light when they finally fell asleep, but now it was practically bright, indicating that it was already a decent way through the day. With Daenerys towering above him, he quickly realised that he was sat on the floor. This brought him to his final realisation, which was that his legs, behind and back were all utterly freezing, having been pressed against cold stone for a number of hours now. Once he actually became aware of the cold, he barely allowed another second to pass before he leapt to his feet, much to the amusement of the nude woman before him. As he regained his equilibrium, he watched Daenerys dip the cloth she held into the jug and then squeeze the excess water out before walking towards him. Raising onto her tiptoes, she planted a very chaste kiss to his lips then began to wipe at his chest. He gazed down at her intently as she cleaned him, feeling himself fall more in love with her with each pass of the cloth.

  
Finally satisfied that his chest was clean, Daenerys began to move the cloth downwards, brushing it back and forth across his stomach until she reached the coarse trail of hairs leading downwards. Stopping just short of her final destination, she chanced a look up at him. So full of love was his face that she lost the breath she was holding, feeling it escape her in a rush. “Just ... don’t start something you can’t finish, love,” he pleaded softly, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. It was all she needed to hear. Wrapping the cloth around his shaft, she cleaned him from root to tip, then back again, paying special attention to his balls as she finally spoke. “Last night you were ever so _ever so_ gentle with me, you gave my _sweet… little… cunt…_ just the break it needed. Now though, I think you’ve earned the chance to be just a little bit rough…”

  
Jon didn’t need telling twice, he couldn’t wait another moment to be nestled deep inside her. Lifting her up off the floor he wrapped her taught thighs around his sides, shifting her upwards until he felt his cock spring free between her legs. Lowering her slowly, he had only feeling to guide himself into her slick entrance. Using the weight of her body, he pushed inside her, dropping her down until there was no him and her, only them. Face-to-face, eyes unblinking, he paused. “What do you need from me?” Jon asked her breathlessly. “I will give you anything you ask, love.” Shifting her slightly in his hands, he leaned forward to pressed his mouth to her neck, sucking at her skin while he rocked them. Between ragged breaths and whimpers, Daenerys answered. “I want you to fuck me, just like this, against the same wall you did this morning. Only this time I will be filled with your cock, not your tongue.” Pulling his head back so she could look him in the eyes, she went on. “I want you to bend me across your desk and take me, just as your wolf would a bitch. And, if you still have the energy after all that, let me mount you, and ride you, like I do Drogon. I will see how much of a dragon you are then, Jon Snow.”

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Daenerys felt the flesh on her back tear slightly as he moved her up against the stone wall. But the pain was nothing in comparison to the pleasure she felt as he stretched her over and over and over again. Relentlessly.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Her nipples ached as they grated against the rough wood of his desk, but she barely cared. And she quickly forgot all about it when He trailed his finger down the crease of her arse, spread her arousal around her puckered behind, and pressed his finger deep inside her as his cock filled up her cunt.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

No sooner had she climbed onto the bed, straddled his lap, and guided his cock into her, had he turned his face away, glancing across the room. Then she heard it. Someone was knocking on the door. Ser Davos’ dulcet tones followed shortly after, sounding more irate then she had heard him before. “ _Your Grace_ ,” he spoke, measuredly. “I know you must be very _busy_ , and I’m sorry to _disturb_ you like this… but it is past _noon_ and there are many people waiting to speak with you.” Sighing loudly, possibly deciding whether or not to continue, he eventually did. “The Queen has not been seen this morning either... and those same people wishing to speak with you are getting somewhat … suspicious… _Your Grace._ ” Looking down at the man sprawled out beneath her, Daenerys waited to see what he’d do.

 

 

“Your Grace!” Ser Davos practically shouted when no response came, pissing Jon off to no end. Lifting Daenerys up until he slipped free, Jon took a steadying breath before answering the old man. “Ser Davos,” he answered, not a shout, but loud enough to be heard. “These past months I have travelled from one end of this god forsaken country to the other... and beyond! I have risked my life for the people of this country more times than I care to count and I will continue to do so until I take my last breath… which will likely be quite soon. I think, if I might be so bold, that I have earned the right to spend _one morning_ away from all the talk of death and misery, and just _be_ _alone_.” Mildly impressed with how calm he had remained, Jon added as an after thought, “and I’m sure the Queen is doing the same.” Glancing up at Daenerys, he shook his head when she motioned between his legs, her eyebrows raised and a mischievous look in her eyes. I dare not allow her to take me inside her again until Ser Davos leaves. This took less time than he thought it would. “I... _agree_ , Your Grace,” said the old man, trying and failing to hide his amusement. “And would you be wanting me to tell _all that_ to those that ask after you?”

 

 

Daenerys watched a childish grin began to appear, then spread, across Jon’s face. “Honestly... I don’t care what you say,” he responded, lightheartedly. “I will be down before supper is served and they may speak with me as much as they wish then.” When nothing more came from beyond the door, Jon lifted his arms and tucked both his hands behind his head, letting out a long sigh, and holding her gaze. “Now, my Queen,” he said, playfully. “About this _dragon_ you wanted to ride…”

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 Will you... help me?

 

 

That evening, plans had been made and come morning, would be set into motion. Jon could never say it out loud to anyone but _her_ , but he felt terrified. He knew he needed to stay strong for his people, and showing them his fear wasn’t an option now. Walking through the main gate, Jon looked up. The moon still shone full in the night sky, which was surprisingly clear tonight. _It’s the calm before the storm._ As he walked, he thought about what Arya had said to him, as the Lords and Commanders filtered out of the great hall. _“If you have Targaryen blood Jon, does that mean you might one day ride one of her dragons?”_ In the endless moments since Bran revealed to him his true parentage, Jon had thought about many things, mainly trying to come to terms with what had happened in the past. He had not thought too much about his future, and how his blood now held meaning it hadn’t done before.

 

 

Leaving the protection of Winterfell’s great castle walls was stupid, he knew, but something mattered more to him right now. He walked in a straight line towards the dense woodblock that stood half a league South of the castle, his heart hammering in his chest each step that he took. _This could be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done!_ When he got to the tree line, he turned and looked back towards the castle, settling himself down onto the snow covered earth, his back resting against the trunk of a thick pine. Then he closed his eyes and waited, filling his mind with the image of exactly what he wanted. Calling out to him. When the ground beneath him shook and a fierce wind whipped across his face, Jon kept his eyes tight shut. When all went quiet and calm, he peeled his eyelids apart and finally laid eyes upon him. _Rhaegal. Named for her brother. Named for my father._ The green and bronze dragon engulfed his view, emitting streams of hot smoke from his flaring nostrils.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

No one knew where he had disappeared to. Arya had given Daenerys a curious look when she inquired of Jon’s whereabouts, but she dared not pry, she did not know any of the Stark siblings well enough for that yet. Trusting he was indisposed and engaged in important matters, Daenerys took herself to her own chambers where she retrieved a towel and a robe, a concoction for cleaning her hair, and her comb. _Tonight may be the last time I am able to bathe in a very long time._ Opening up the hidden stairway he had shown her, Daenerys felt her heart beat loudly against her chest. _Gods, I hope I do not get lost._ Following the same route Jon had taken her on her first night, she snuck soundlessly through the vast walls, not stopping until she started to see once more, fresh and cool air replacing dank and musty. Carefully she removed each of the bars blocking her exit, and then slipped into the Godswood.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Jon felt sick. The rush he had felt practically running back to the castle, had begun to give way to panic when he reached his chamber and found it empty. _I thought she’d be here!_ Quickly navigating his way to her chamber, her guards confirmed that the Queen was inside, however her room also appeared empty.  _Fuck! The one time I am not here to watch over her and she disappears._  Calling out to her just in case, he glanced to the adjoining dressing room where he spotted the entrance to the hidden passageway ajar. _The Godswood?_ Racing down the stone steps and into the darkness, Jon felt anger start to bubble up inside him. _Stupid woman! She could end up lost in these walls forever._

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Knelt on the bank of the pool, her bottom half submerged in the steaming water, Daenerys brushed through her hair, lost in a daze. She had swam from one side to the other with the light of the moon to guide her, ducked her head below the surface and only resurfaced when her lungs had begun to scream for air. Thinking of the last time she had been in this place made her ponder once more about her moon blood, and why it had come and gone so quickly. _I bled for less than a day, she thought curiously. Yet my nipples are more sensitive than they have been since…_ But that thought was cut short by the sound of heavy footfalls approaching, causing her to turn just in time to see Jon march into the clearing.

 

 

 _She’s like something they speak of in legends._ Seeing her knelt in the shallows of the steaming pool, bathed in moonlight, comb suspended in mid air, damp hair falling down her back and over her shoulders, Jon could barely comprehend the sight. _She doesn’t look real._ Stalking towards her, he felt his anger at her disappearance quell slightly just by the sheer sight of her. “And where have you been,” she asked him tersely, before he even had the chance to speak. Shocked by her slightly irritated tone, he stopped short of where she was sat, water soaking through the leather of his boots. “Where have I been?” Jon fired back, dismayed by her audacity to question him, yet equally aware he had no actual merit to feel that way. “Tell me, love… Who knew you came here?”

 

 

Annoyed he’d evaded her question, Daenerys lifted her chin defiantly. _Two can play this game, Jon_. Unfortunately, without meaning to, she started pondering his question. _Fuck. No one knows where I am._ Though the thought made her heart begin to sink, still, she said nothing. Filling her lungs with a long, steady breath through her nose, she put all her effort into sounding composed. However, as the first words escaped her lips, cracked and quivering, she knew she had failed. “I don’t have to tell anyone of my whereabouts, I am a queen.” Kneeling next to her, seemingly unbothered that his breeches were now partially submerged beneath the water, Jon spoke with such a deathly quiet voice, Daenerys felt her heart thump nervously in her chest. “Well, my Queen… let me tell you this. When I brought you here the first time, I sent a small party of my most trusted men ahead to sweep the entire area. They then stood guard at the _main_ entrance to ensure every other soul stayed away while I fucked you.”

 

 

He held her gaze while he spoke, watching the realisation flit across her face and a lump bob in her throat as she swallowed. “I didn’t think about that.” Jon knew he was being harsh, but he was mad. _Anyone could be in here watching her! Anyone could be watching us now. She doesn’t know I sent Ghost to search the wood or that he is currently sat guarding the entrance._ “I’m sorry,” she said finally, quiet as a mouse, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “When I couldn’t find you I thought I would come and... bathe. I hoped ...” she began, cheeks flushing pink, “I hoped when you couldn’t find me you would look for me here.” Then she turned away from him, as if to hide her embarrassment. Each piece of clothing he wore, he felt rage towards, holding it personally responsible for keeping him away from the naked women next to him. Standing, he quickly removed his jerkin and shirt, throwing them onto the mossy bank. Finally, after tugging off his soggy boots and sodden breeches, he was naked as her.

 

 

Falling into the water behind her, his knees sinking into to the fine silt of the bank, Jon said quietly, “so... you want to know where I was?” Even after she nodded her response, he took his time to speak, swallowing over and over, terrified of what she might do once she learned the truth. “I … I rode him… I rode Rhaegal. He… he came to me… he let me climb up onto his back, and then he just... took off with me, into the skies.” Pausing when the comb fell from her grasp, he watched as it sank into the water, not knowing if he should stop or go on. “Where?” She asked finally, her voice trembling. “I went out to the forest… I waited… and he came to me.” Suddenly unable to bare hearing her thoughts about he’d done, Jon took hold of her hips and guided her back onto his lap. Her legs parted, sliding either side of his own. Jon didn’t give her any warning before bringing her down onto his cock, pushing up into her. While he lifted and lowered her body, Daenerys’ moans reverberated across the pool, water sloshing and splashing around them each time her behind hit his thighs.

 

 

Snaking his arm around her and reaching down between her legs, Jon brushed his fingers rapidly over her silky nub until he felt her insides start to clench around him. “Now,” he started, placing his hands under her backside, “get on your hands and knees.” Closing his eyes tight shut, Jon pulled out of her quickly and focused all his energy on not spilling his seed. She did nothing to help him of course, settling back in his lap and leaning her head against his shoulder, a desperate, guttural moan falling from her lips. When she spoke, she sounded half strangled. “You mean to tell me... that earlier you rode my dragon… and then decided to come here and fuck me like a dog?” Smiling at her words, Jon whispered directly into her ear, “I am just as much a wolf as I am a dragon, love.” Sitting up on his knees, forcing her to do the same, he held her body tight against his as he finished, “and I know you lose your mind when I take you in this way.” Releasing his grip, he helped guide her torso forward, grinning when her arms disappeared into the water, all the way up to her elbows. With her pert behind now perched before him, Jon took what he could only guess to be his hundredth calming breath of the night.

 

 

Daenerys closed her eyes, licked her lips, and dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard as she waited for what was to come. As if he’d thought through every part of his plan, Jon started by running a single finger from her wet centre, up along her parted cheeks. When he’d seemed to spread enough of her arousal, he followed along the same path with the silky smooth head of his penis. Back and forth he moved, at a maddeningly slow pace, until he stopped and pressed himself forward against her puckered behind. The thought of imminent intrusion caused her to gasp in shock and the anticipation made her arms begin to tremble, but when he made no other movement, she heard herself cry out in desperation, “please! Just do it!” And so he did. The feeling was unlike anything she’d experienced, with him or with anyone else before him. It was all consuming. Barely aware of the rest of her body, she only realised her arms had given out when her forehead touched the surface of the water. Straightening her arms to lift herself up again, she threw her head skywards, arched her back, and groaned at the feel of him filling her from this new angle.

 

 

“Fuck,” Jon shouted out, not knowing how it was possible for her to feel any better than she had just moments ago. Speeding up his movements, Jon took a firm hold of her just above her hips, his hands almost completely encircling her waist. “Fuck, fuck, FUUCK!” He cried out as he thrust into her again and again. There was nothing he could do this time to prolong his release and it shot from him in hot, awkward spurts. Afterwards, he stood in a daze and lifted her into his arms, wading them deep into the pool. By the time they were submerged up to their chests, her weight in his arms had lessened. Curled against his chest, Jon began murmuring into her hair: how much he loved her and what  she meant to him, how he felt about what they had just done.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

Sitting on the bank, watching Jon swim about, Daenerys felt strangely in need of having him near, so she called. “Come. Let me do something with your hair.” The look he gave her was one of utter confusion. _He looks like a scared child._ “Come here,” she laughed, tapping the surface of the water in front of her, “you can sit between by legs while I tame those unruly locks.” As the seconds went on and he still didn’t move, Daenerys felt the smile slip from her face. “Jon? I just meant to wash your hair, maybe even comb it through… is that a problem?” Finally, Jon gave his head a little shake, as if clearing a troubled thought, then he swam towards her and moved himself between her parted legs. Facing away, he murmured shyly, “I just don’t really remember being bathed or groomed as a child so you … you just threw me off guard with ... what you were saying. That’s all.” His glorious expanse of back laid out in front of her, littered with marks and scars, all Daenerys could do in that moment was squeeze her eyes shut and try to stop the tears that threatened to escape. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him tightly as she pressed her lips against the back of his neck.

 

 

The lump in Jon’s throat only grew with each passing moment that she stayed wrapped around him, not saying a word. Bringing his hands up and removing her tight hold of him, he twisted himself just enough so that he could look at her when he spoke. “Don’t be sad for me, love. I only meant to explain why I reacted that way. You can do as you wish with my hair…” In the hopes of breaking the tension and lightening the mood, he forced out a laugh, adding, “though I don’t know what hope there is of actually improving it!” Then he turned away again, leaving her to mull over his words. With a whispered “ _I love you_ ”, and a final kiss pressed just below his ear, she got to work.

 

 

He was the perfect patron. He shuffled himself forward when instructed, deeper into the pool, so he could dip his head back into the water and soak his hair. Propped up on his elbows, he lay still as a statue as she rubbed a generous helping of soap she had used on her own hair between in her palms, then smeared it into his curls. The weight of the moment almost crippling her, Daenerys focussed on the task at hand as much as possible. Instructing him too move his head this way and that helped to keep her from being overcome by emotion. Finally, when she’d covered every inch of his scalp, and every hair on his head, she paused, and dipped her hands into the water to clean them. “Okay,” she said quietly, “you can rinse it off now.” Instead of sitting up and moving away from her, he merely shifted his elbows and lowered his head down into the water until he was looking up at her from between her thighs. “Will you... help me?” A simple question, maybe, but how much it meant to her could not be measured.

 

 

Jon closed his eyes as she began to rinse his hair, his heart swelling inside his chest. Something about being cared for in such a maternal way felt immensely pleasurable and he was not ready for it to be over just yet. The look that had crossed Daenerys’ face when he requested her help made his stomach flip in the oddest way. It was as if he’d known she loved him previously but was only now seeing the true depth of that love. Placing her hand under his head, she lifted it out of the water, encouraging him to sit us. “I thought I’d comb it quickly, if… if you’d like that?” He hated that she sounded so unsure. Twisting around, he gave her the biggest smile he could before answering, “I’d really like that.” Again, he closed his eyes, this time thinking back to being a young child, watching Sansa and then Arya cry as their hair was tugged and teased by the their Lady Mother. This was nothing like that, however. Daenerys ran the comb across his head with such meticulous delicacy he didn’t feel so much as a twinge.

 

 

When she’d finally finished, he twisted around, strenching out between her parted legs and pushing her backwards. Gently trailing a single finger up the inside of one of her thighs, when he reached the short, silver hairs at the apex of her sex he looked up along her body and met her gaze. Slipping his finger forward ever-so-slightly into her cleft, he felt a thrill watching her eyes and head roll back, followed shortly by a long, drawn-out sigh. As Jon began rubbing the digit back and forth between her swollen folds he felt himself twitch and throb beneath the water, then start to stiffen once more. Leaning forward, he lay a kiss against the hollow next to her hip-bone and muttered a single word against her skin, smiling as he did so. “Again?”

 

 

With his question still hanging suspended in the air, Daenerys lifted her weary head from where it rested against the soft bank and met his eyes. She was reminded yet again as time jolted to a stop that there wasn’t a person, living or dead, that she’d shared such an undeniable connection with. Just looking into his boundless, dark eyes, she felt like they were engaged in a conversation privy only to them, one that could be neither overheard, or interrupted. One that only he would ever understand. Swallowing, she reached out for him and laced her fingers into his shining, onyx locks, guiding his mouth towards the place she needed him most.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

“So? Are you going to tell me any more about it?” Jon could tell from the tone of her voice that she was suddenly, desperately, curious and turned to look at her, now wrapped up in her thick white robe. Wincing as he dragged his very cold, very wet breeches back up his legs, Jon finished tying up the laces before speaking. “I will tell you whatever you wish to know, love.” Reaching down to retrieve his sodden boots, he waited until he was looking at her again before continuing, “but... may I suggest we go back inside so I can find something dry to wear?” Her responding smile warmed his heart. “I can do one better,” Daenerys answered him, stepping forward and taking hold of his free hand. “Let’s go back to my room and take all of those wet clothes off you, and then... not put anymore on.”

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Try

 

  
The faint echo of his footsteps reverberated around him as he traipsed up the stairwell. It had been three long months since he had been here and he felt it in every step he took. Three long months covering each and every inch of the the Crown Lands, The Reach, and The Westerlands, ensuring that as many people as possible laid eyes upon him – their new King. Three long months away from _her_ , away from the remaining members of his family, meeting people he had only ever heard talk of. Their names had been mentioned to him in passing as a young boy, included in correspondence he had received as Lord Commander, spoken of by Sansa on his return to Winterfell, and then again by Daenerys while stationed at Dragonstone. To him, they had been nought but empty faces. He had soon realised that just as he had owed nothing to them, they too had felt quite the same about him.

 

 

When he and Daenerys had eventually turned their attention South, back to Cersei, they moved with what was left of The Northern, Dothraki, Unsullied and Wildling forces. The Lords of The Riverland’s and The Vale had also upheld their sworn aligence and joined their  march South in their thousands. All were united by one thing: the knowledge that together, they had triumphed over the White Walker’s. The rest of Westeros, however, had a decision to make. In the months that followed the Walker’s defeat, they had to chose whether to remain loyal to the family, _and_   _to the woman_ , who had caused so much pain and devastation throughout their lands. Or, they could chose to trust the bastard son of a convicted traitor and a Targaryen. Worse. Daenerys was not just any Targeryan, she was the Mad King’s daughter, and together they had two fully grown dragons at their back which, if stories were to be believed, they had proven willing to use. Some had found the decision more difficult than others, and the consequences of that had been more difficult for him to deal with than he could have ever imagined. Especially on the back of two bloody wars.

 

 

  
The staircase opened into the centre of the chamber, like a stairway emerging from the underworld. As Jon reached the last step, his eyes were drawn towards the bed, searching for her. Nestled under a pile of fine, ivory sheets, she slept soundly, entirely unaware an intruder was near. _My wife_. _How is it that she sleeps so heavily?_ Jon wondered, his heart now thrumming with excitement at the realisation that she was so close he could actually reach out and touch her. _I’d worry for her safety had I not passed ten Unsullied lining the hallway downstairs and a hoard of Dothraki roaming the grounds below._ Looking around, he took in the room, eager to reacquaint himself with the space they had shared so briefly. The chamber wasn’t small or simple, but neither was it as overlarge and opulent as some of those found within the castle. _But it is us, and.. it is ours._ Thinking back to their arrival, all those months ago, both had instantly agreed to be housed in this room based entirely on the views it offered. With the staircase opening straight through the floor, all four sides remained unused and had therefore been adorned with long balconies, each overlooking a different part of the land. When he’d left, Daenerys had favoured the Western balcony as she loved to watch the dragons swoop and sore with the sun setting behind them. Still drawn in the direction of the place he had spent most of his life, Jon glanced towards the North-facing balcony, surprised to find that that particular door had been left ajar. Crossing the room in long, silent strides, he carefully fitted the door back into it’s frame, stilling the gentle breeze that had been slipping through the crack. Thoughts momentarily shifting to Winterfell, Jon wondered about his family and the immense task they had ahead of them, rebuilding the North. 

 

 

 

Pulled towards her like some sort of desperate and famished beast, Jon walked back across the room, reaching up to unclasp his cloak as he did so. Letting the heavy cloth slip from his shoulders, he found a nearby chair and draped it over the back. Eyes fixed on her sleeping form, all curled up in their bed, Jon realised once again just how bone weary he was. It had been three months of sleeping on whatever cot he could find, too often cold, and always very much alone. _I could just fall onto this bed and sleep for a week. Maybe she would enjoy waking to find me next to her?_ The thought had barely been realised before he amended the wishful musing. _No. She’d more likely kill me for not informing her the moment I arrived back safely_. Staring down at her, he continued wits his methodical undressing, barely managing to temper the desperate need he had to be close to her, to be rid of the layers and layers of leather and linen he had been wrapped in these few months past. When only his shirt remained, Jon perched his behind on the edge of the bed beside her.

 

 

 

Vaguely aware of the mattress dipping near her, Daenerys was dragged from her heavy slumber. Squinting and blinking, her eyelids fought to remain open long enough for her to see anything in the dim, candle-lit room. The first thing she was eventually able to focus on was the last thing she had expected to see. It was also the only thing she had wished for every night as she lay in bed willing sleep to take ahold of her quickly. Gazing down at her with those familiar, dark eyes, was Jon. _Finally!_ Rolling sleepily on to her back and stretching each of her limbs out in a different direction, she let her eyes fall shut again, happiness engulfing her entire being. Then, through the darkness came his deep and gravelly voice. “Are you pleased to see me, love?” Pushing herself up to a seated position, Daenerys beamed at him before letting her gaze travel down his body, taking in his very slender frame. Studying his face once more, she was shocked to find he looked far more pale and gaunt than he had last time she’d laid eyes upon him. _These three months have been hard on both of us._ Twisting herself up onto her knees, she draped her arms about his shoulders, anchored them behind his head, and looked deep into his eyes, as she answered his question, “I have never felt as happy as I am in this moment.” Brushing her lips lightly against his with the hopes of starting something, she pulled back when instead, a curious look crossed his face. “Not even the day we were wed, love?”

 

 

 

 _They had married at dawn. It had seemed fitting with the coming war. Jon’s siblings had stood by his side as Daenerys was lead towards him. Under the same Weirwood he’d played as a boy, prayed as a boy, and loved as a man, he became a husband. They knelt before the heart tree and bowed their heads together, silently submissing for all to witness._   _He felt the watchful eyes of the Old Gods searing into him, the heavy weight of their presence a comfort in these uncertain times. So too did he feel the eyes of the witnesses, and t_ _hat had been very few indeed. They had informed only those they held dear, well, those that remained.  Neither had wished for grandeur or fancy, only truth. The one request Jon had made was that his sworn brother, Samwell Tarly, made a written record of the event. His thinking that, if all was lost in the dark days to come, their love would be remembered by any whom survived, not just the sacred trees. No opulent feast had followed. No celebration. They were offered bread and salt, which they both accepted, and were then greeted by all they passed with bowed heads and murmured well wishes. To complete the ceremony, they had retired back to his chamber. The previous night had been the time for savouring one another, but not that moment. They had made love frantically, not even taking the time to undress fully before they were joined. Desperate, all-consuming love, like they might never get the chance again. As their final twitches and tremors died down, Jon had begged her, his heart feeling as if it was breaking in two beneath his ribs. “Just... promise... promise you’ll return to me, love.”_

 

 

 

  
Dragging his thoughts back from that wonderful, fateful day, he watched a sly smile creep across her face before she spoke. “Let me show you why this day makes me happier.” Without another word, she lifted her arms above her head, the sleeves of her shift slipping partway down her arms, revealing her delicate wrists. “Now. Undress me, husband.” Scarcely able to keep himself from throwing down onto the bed and ravaging her within an inch of her life, Jon reached forward and took two handfuls of her shift, tugging and manoeuvring it out from where it had been trapped beneath her knees. As he lifted it higher, he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. _I have not laid eyes on her naked flesh in 84 days._  Opening them again just in time, he watched her emerge from beneath her shift, her ragged breaths matching his own. Swallowing, he finally allowed his gaze to drop down from her face, and what he saw made him gasp. He had spent so many moments whilst he had been away picturing her, but it was clear in this moment that the body he had grown to know so well had changed a great deal while he’d been gone. Her chest was considerably larger, her breasts fuller and rounder than he’d ever know them to be. Even more different were her nipples, which had always been so small and dainty but now stood large and erect and dark against her pale skin. Intrigued, he reached out to brush the pad of his thumb across one, before cupping the breast it adorned, full of wonder at the shear weight of it in his palm.

 

 

Daenerys knew from the look in his eyes, the look that told her he was picturing all the sinful things he was going to do to her, that he had failed to see anything passed her blooming chest. Her secret still concealed for the moment, she felt a now-familiar flutter low in her belly. Reaching one hand up to cover his, she lifted it away from her breast and brought it down, placing it gently upon her swollen stomach. Getting the chance to witness his face change from one of sexual longing to utter shock, then pure joy, caused her heart to almost explode with happiness. She watched his gaze dart up from her chest and his jaw fall slack. “You’ve been gone a while, husband,” she whispered shyly, “I have much news to share with you.” When he moved to kiss her, he wove his fingers deep into her locks and anchored them firlmy, holding onto her as if his life depended upon it. The whole room disappeared around them as he kissed her, long and unhurried, then short and desperate. Jon explored her mouth, her neck and her shoulders, happiness radiating from every part of him. He broke off the kiss as quickly as he started it, leaving her feeling dazed, dizzy and completely loved. She kept her eyes fixed on his face as he leaned away to get a good look at her body, gasping when she felt his hands settle once again on her bulging middle. When he squeezed his eyes shut, a tiny pearl of water slipped from the corner of each of his eyes. “You… you are… are you truly with child, love?” He choked out, voice trembling and uncertain. Finally able to share this news she nodded, her own eyes filling with tears before they rolled down her cheeks, hot and heavy.

 

 

  
After repeatedly trying to form words, Jon finally threw his hands up in the air and exclaimed, “you mean to tell me that these past _months_ , each time you wrote to me, you did not see fit to mention _this_?” She couldn’t help but chuckle as he gestured wildly at her rounded belly, his voice increasong in pitch with each word he spoke. Placing one palm against his cheek, she stifled a giggle as she attempted to reassure him. “My love. You have been away doing such... important… such _necessary_ work. Would you not have come back to me immediately had I told you?” Looking away from her, he offered up a hint of a nod. Guiding his gaze back to hers again, she went on. “The people of this land needed to _see_ you, to hear from your own lips what _we_ prevented from happening, they needed to hear of the sacrifices of our people. The North and The Vale, the Dothraki and Unsullied, not to mention the Wildlings… You know that just as much as I do.”

 

 

 

Jon’s head hurt. During the fight against the White Walkers, and the subsequent fight to bring down Cersei’s tyrynical reign, Jon had had a lot to contend with. But the months following her defeat, as he’d navigated the Southern lands he’d heard so much about, he had allowed himself to slow down somewhat. The only place he had avoided entirely was Dorne, the place of his birth, and currently the one part of Westeros still refusing to yield. The Dornish people believed that they had suffered enough at the hands of Cersei and the Lannisters, that they had basically cut all ties with the former Seven Kingdoms. Jon had left Daenerys and her trusted advisers to deal with the rebuild of Kinds Landing and relations with Dorne, while he had tried to bring the rest of the lands to heal. So far, all the people he had met with were just desperate for their lives to return to a semblance of normal. For now, at least, they were willing to fall into line.

 

 

  
  
“Alright, love.” Jon breathed out, “I suppose I can see why I was kept in the dark.” Taking her head in his hands, his pained look reached all the way to her soul. Down her neck his hands travelled, over her shoulders and along her arms. Grasping hold of her own hands in his, he added, “but now I am here… you will keep nothing from me.” Daenerys’ whole body sagged with relief. Shuffling away from the edge of the bed, she patted the mattress in front of her. When he moved to join her, she raised her brows and shook her head, a sly smile spreading across her lips. _Not like that._ Watching him drag his shirt over his head, she felt her core flood with her arousal and her thighs become slick. _Oh, how I have dreamed of his return every night we have been apart, and finally, FINALLY, he is home._ Crawling across the bed, naked as his name day, Jon placed a gentle kiss to her lips before turning to rest his back against the headboard. When she began to settle herself where she was sat, he piped up playfully, “don’t think I’m going to let you talk to me from all the way over there.” Laughing, he patting his legs. “Now… get her.” The feel of his hands burned her flesh as he helped hitch one of her legs over his. Her insides clenched as she sat facing him, her behind resting on his lap. Looking down between his legs, she clenched again at the sight of him. Reaching out for him, Daenerys swallowed hard. But Jon, it seemed, clearly had other ideas. With one hand he stopped her from reaching her intended destination, while his other hand gently took hold of her chin. Forcing her eyes back up to meet his, Jon chuckled. “Oh no, love, _t_ _hat_  will wait. You had your reasons for keeping this news from me thus far, but no more.” Cupping her swollen belly in his hands, he finished. “Now… I want to hear all about _this_.” So, she told him.

 

 

 

While she spoke, he alternated between circling her belly and running his hands up and down her thighs, wanting to be connected to her in some small way. It appeared she had known about the babe for a while, or at least guessed as much, but she had been terrified to actually believe it. Missandei had eventually been the one to confirm that the changes she was experiencing were, in fact, normal changes experienced during pregnancy. Still, she dared not dream that this time, _this babe_  would live. While her first pregnancy had made her nauseous, had made her ankles and fingers balloon, this babe had caused none of that. At first, nothing had altered, she had even continued to bleed monthly. Constantly hungry, when she began to gain weight, she thought little of it. Her tiredness she chalked down to endlessly long council meetings, private audiences, and responding to an unimaginable number of correspondences with people from every corner of the kingdom. What finally did it, she explained with a smile, was the fluttering feeling in her belly that woke her one night. So light, she had laid there in the darkness wondering if she had only imagined it. But then, as if the babe was finally through with being ignored, the fluttering feeling had come again, longer and harder. Clutching her stomach, she had cried and laughed and sent a silent prayer to all the Gods to keep this babe safe. “How… how far… along are you?” He murmured shyly, sounding very unsure about his question. “Is that… is that even something you can know?”

 

 

 

Daenerys had been right about this day being better than all others that had come before it. She had never seen the man before her look so happy, and that was just what she had wanted. Each detail she revealed about the months he’d been gone, made his face light up with joy. Only this final question, the light had faded slightly and a melancholy look took it’s place. “From what we can tell, about.. five months. But, the Maesters can’t be… certain, not really,” she explained gently, lifting her shoulder in a tiny shrug. “What is it, Jon?” She asked when he sighed. Shaking his head, he looked away from her before muttering. “I’ve already missed so much and the babe isn’t even here yet.” His defeated tone broke her heart. _Have I made the wrong decision? Should I have told him and then asked him not to return? I could have written to him about each and every detail as it happened... given him something good to think about while we were apart._ Needing to somehow reassure him, she reached out and turned his face back towards hers, looking him straight in the eye as she said, “you are here now, Jon, and that is all that matters to me… to us.” Kissing him tenderly, she broke off to add, “and you are not leaving us again until I have been safely delivered of our son or daughter, do you understand?”

 

 

 

Slowly, tentatively, he trailed his hands from her thighs back to her rounded belly. Looking down, he marvelled at the new shape of her. Mumbling, almost to himself, he admitted quietly, “I’ve scarcely gotten used to being your husband yet, much less a father.” That made her laugh. “You! You are a wonderful husband, more than I could have even hoped for. I know that you will be a brilliant father too.” Feeling his heart swell inside his chest at her words, he decided to steer the topic onwards and started to ask about her, and about how these past few months had really been. Their words no longer constrained to a single strip of parchment, as she talked, he could feel himself settling down and relaxing for the first time since they’d separated. The most common theme for both seemed to be the huge toll it had taken on them, dealing with a Kingdom post war and mid-winter seperatly. Having destroyed much of Kings Landing fighting Cersei, the decision had been made soon after they’d won the war to relocate to High Garden for the time being due to its relative proximity to the former capital and it’s fertile landscapes. The castle was in perfect working order and had room enough around it to house thousands. While the threat from the White Walkers had been dealt with, Winter was still in full force and mouths needed to be fed.

 

 

 

“Jon,” she said all of a sudden, interrupting his ramblings about the stubborn Lords of the Westerlands who had tried to convince him that Cersei hadn’t been all that bad and that the tales they’d heard of the Walkers were just Northern folly. He’d obviously heard something in the way she’d spoken his name because he stopped talking and smiled, the irritated furrow between his brows disappearing. “Have you missed me, love?” He asked, smiling. Suddenly shy, Daenerys nodded, then swallowed twice before she found the courage to speak, her voice getting caught in her throat when she finally spoke. “Jon, tell me... truthfully... do you still wish… do you still look at me and wish to... make love... to me?” Snaking his arms around her back and pulling her as close as he could, Jon kissed her hard and deep, only pulling back to answer. “I have been thinking about loving you every moment since I kissed you goodbye, and I’ve no shame in admitting that.” Running his eyes across ever inch of her naked flesh, he went on, “I did not think it was possible for you to become any more beautiful, but… but Gods, Daenerys, you’ve proved me wrong once again.”

 

 

 

The sincerity of his words filled her with the confidence she needed and without further hesitation, Daenerys lifted herself up onto her knees and shuffled backwards. As she moved away from him, he shot her a confused look. “Um… not like this?” Answering with a shake of her head she gestured to him. “Move towards me so you may lie back.”  Following her instructions silently, when his head was resting on the pillows and his legs stretched out behind her, Jon caught her eye and asked, “we… do we... do _I_  need to stay like this?” Nodding, all she was able to croak out was a quiet, “for now at least,” before nervously adding, “the babe… well, my stomach… it won’t get in the way like this.” Desperate with need to have him move within her, she took hold of his cock and guided it towards her core. When she felt the bulbous head press just inside, she stopped and let the feeling wash over her. _I have waited so long to have him back in my bed, back in me, and finally he is._ Leaning forward, she placed two steadying hands on his chest and looked straight down into his eyes as she pressed her body closer to his. Thinking back to all the times she had pleasured herself while he’d been away, with her fingers and other things, the knowledge that it was really him who stretched and filled her now was overwhelming. It was something she wanted to savour. And from the looks of him, Jon appeared to be doing the same.

 

 

  
Barely moving, his chest rose and fell in time with each breath she took, her eyes wary and guarded. “I fear... I won’t be able to last... very long, love.” Jon rasped out when he was fully sheathed inside of her, the weight of her body a comfort against his trembling thighs. What she said next, however, almost made him come undone right there and then. Dragging in a steadying breath, her eyes falling shut, she uttered a single word before she began to move over him. “Try.” Faced with an image unlike any he could have even imagined, Jon split his efforts rather unequally between holding off his climax and enjoying the sight dominating his view. Not only had he not had sex with her in three months, but he was now confronted with his wife’s dramatically changed body within reach. _It feels as if I am in bed with a completely different woman, like I am forsaking my vows. And yet, she is the same woman I made my vows to._ Squeezing his eyes tightly shut to block out the image before him, he mentally pulled himself back from the brink of climax, not risking opening them again until he was quite sure he was safe.

 

 

  
Daenerys was completely lost in sensation, all her energy focused on the dragging and stretching between her legs. She felt ashamed to admit that, in this moment, she was using his body to pleasure herself with almost no thought about his own enjoyment. One quick peek down at her husband sprawled out below her quickly seemed to quell those concerns. _Bliss. I feel it too._ Pushing up and away from his chest, she sat upright and groaned at the feel of him nestled as deep as he could go, buried all the way to his balls. As she started to rock her hips once again, forwards and backwards, side to side, circling one way and then the other, she brought her hands up to cup her breasts, tugging and playing with her nipples. Crying out loudly at the surge of pleasure this new stimulation caused, Daenerys knew she was close.

 

 

 

With her teetering on the brink of her release, Jon sprang into action, realising that as soon as she fell over the edge, he could follow. Sucking the index and middle finger of his right hand into his mouth, he only pulled them out when they were sufficiently slick. Moving them down between her legs, down to the place where his length was currently nessled inside of her, he quickly located the swollen nub at the apex of her folds and slid a digit either side of it. Then he let her own rocking movements do the rest. All that was left for him to do was watch, his gaze flitting from her eyes, which stared desperately down into his, to her breasts, which she continued to tug at and squeeze, to her cunt, which engulfed his cock. And all this while she used his parted, slick fingers to tease her own clit.

 

 

  
Great, guttural, raking sobs escaped her when she finally came, the walls of her cunt constricting tightly around him as her thighs shook at his sides. Collapsing towards him, her hands slipped off his chest and on to the mattress by his head. For the first time, he felt the full press of her belly against his. Still desperately in need of his own release, he held her body firmly in place, each of his hands gripping tight to one of her arse checks. For someone who had dangled so close to the edge for so long, it still took a number of drawn out seconds of him pumping furiously into her before he started to shudder and jerk beneath her, hot spurts of his seed spilling deep inside her. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


	13. Chapter 13

 Messandei gave it to me

 

 

 

He must have fallen into a dark oblivion as soon as he’d found his release. He remembered the feeling of utter euphoria plunging into her as she’d trembled and quivered around his sensitive flesh. Now, in the dim light of their room, his entire body felt foreign and altogether removed, as if not truly belonging to him anymore. Sleeping on a spacious mattress in a quiet room, soft sheets against his bare flesh, a hot blooded woman at his side, warming him – this was not how he had become accustomed to sleeping in the months past. Lying on his back beside his wife, watching darkness silently retreat from the room like a thief, he had no recollection of his now-limp cock withdrawing from within her, nor of them settling down to sleep, and certainly no memory of any drowsy last words shared. He remembered only the feeling of total ecstasy that had rushed throughout his body, igniting him from the inside out as he’d tumbled over into sweet oblivion. _Did I really not speak a word to her afterwards? Not a single affirmation of love before sleep took hold?_  Jon wondered. He vaguely recalled a fleeting moment during the exhausted sleep that followed when he’d felt her slip from their bed. But no sooner had he registered that she had gone, she’d returned, her cool flesh pressing back against his. The depths of night rendering him temporarily blind, a profound level of intrigue took hold of him momentarily as he was reminded of her new shape, remembered there was novel flesh for him to navigate and explore. Jon had felt the desire flood him, but then nothing else followed. His cock lay motionless against him, as weary as his body. Sleep then came once again and dragged him back into darkness.

 

 

Now, however, with dawn fast approaching, the memories of her body consumed his thoughts once more. This time though, his mind raced rapidly from their frantic midnight reunion to the news she had shared in the moments prior to it. A father, me? In the depths of his chest, his heart began to pound at the mere thought of it, his blood pulsing loudly in his ears, at his throat, and in the tips of his fingers. Needing a distraction, knowing that without one he would likely work himself into a panic, Jon turned his gaze towards the Eastern balcony and smiled at what he saw. Looking then to his sleeping wife, he brushed a silver lock away from her face before planting a kiss on her flushed cheek. “Come with me,” he commanded softly, when her eyelids fluttered open. As she visibly fought wakefulness, he slid one hand under the sheet that covered her, along the silky skin of her back and swotted her behind. He punctuated the bite of flesh against flesh with a simple, “now,” before adding quietly, “or else we’ll miss it, love.” Hauling himself out of their bed, he reached for his breeches. Pulling them up his legs, he caught sight of her sitting herself upright, the sheets pooled at her waist, trying to stifle a yawn. His mouth instantly parched. _Fuck! What a sight she is to behold._ For a moment he become overwhelmed again by the knowledge that, right then, his child - their child - grew inside of her. As if sensing a sudden change in him, she kept her eyes locked with his as she offered up her hand, then waited patiently until he took hold of it. Jon pulled Daenerys first to her feet and then without pause, towards him. Firmly pressing his lips against hers, revelling in the fact he was able to do that again, having being denied the opportunity for so long. When she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, then pressed it forward into his mouth, he used all his willpower not to tumble back into the bed they had only just vacated. Pulling back, he busied himself with locating her shift, reasoning that it would undoubtably help if he could cover her up. _Ha! As if clothing has managed to stop us before._

 

 

When the hem of her shift brushed across the floor around her feet, he sighed with relief. Her breasts and bump and cunt covered for now. Jon took her hand in his and walked them silently to the Eastern balcony, thankful he had woken her when he did, for just as he unlatched the glass-panelled doors, the horizon began to glow faintly. He walked her right up to the stone balustrade and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her sides and bringing them to rest atop her protruding belly. ”Jon…” she started saying, a curious edge to her voice, but he cut her off as gently as he could.“Shhhh, love. Just wait.” Resting his chin in the delicate dip on her right shoulder, he spread his fingers across her bump and closed his eyes. Stood in the predawn, Jon filled his mind with the exact image he wished for her to see. It took a couple of seconds, but soon enough the silence was shattered by the sound of distant cries, cries that others might take a moment to recognise but that she would know instantly. He felt her head jerk towards the familiar noise and opened his own eyes just in time to see their two magnificent dragons swoop and sway across the glowing horizon. _Our dragons_. Jon heard her sigh, and couldn’t help but smile as he placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. Turning his head, he whispered quietly into her ear, “he has missed you, love. He missed both of you.”

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._ 

 

When the sun had fully emerged and hung low in the sky, Daenerys removed one of his hands from where it had been resting on her stomach and lifted it. Instantly, she felt the loss of heat and comfort his fingers had provided as they traced patterns over their growing child. She had started to feel cold but the thought of what would likely happen next caused the embers inside of her flicker and spark to life, to burn again, white hot. Slipping his hand beneath the neck of her shift, she guided him until he cupped her breast, sighing with relief when he took the hint and began to gently palm and squeeze her tender flesh. “Oh, Jon,” she breathed out, her head dropping back against him. “How I have missed the simple pleasure of your skin against mine. Nothing I did could replace the feel of your hands pressed against me… inside me… stroking and exploring...” Placing both her hands on the smooth top of the balcony, she closed her eyes and enjoyed his continued caresses. Against her backside she felt him becoming rigid once again and smiled to herself, knowing she would soon get what she wanted.

 

  
Time slipped on, noticeable only by the gradual movement of the sun in the sky as it rose before them. Jon briefly dragged his hand away from her breast to fumble with the delicate neck fastening of her shift, eventually managing to tug it loose. Gripping each sleeve, he pulled them downwards simultaneously, causing the silken garment to fall to the floor in a rush. Returning a hand back to one breast, the other travelled over her taught, smooth and rounded flesh, sliding lower and lower, eager to explore her most sensitive flesh. When he slipped his fingers between her legs, he found her exactly as he’d expected, hot and wet and just as hungry for him as he was for her. As if on cue, she spread her legs further apart, affording him more room to toy with her and drive her wild. Not wanting to rush, he continued his gentle assault on her nipples with one hand and her folds with his other, while she continued to rub her backside against his throbbing cock.

 

 

Having teetered frustratingly close to her release for a number of long drawn out minutes, Daenerys began to ponder how she might take matters into her own hands. They were still stood together on the balcony, overlooking the Reach as the sun rose before them, her back pressed firmly to his front. Had she been alone out there, she’d have worn her heavy, fur-lined cloak to fend off the bitter chill the morning air still held, but in that moment her flesh felt enflamed. Needing more from him, more of him, she bent herself forward over the balcony, the feel of cool marble against her arms and breasts causing the air to rush from her lungs. Searching until her hands found an edge to grip, she let out a long drawn out sigh in anticipation. No longer able to fondle her breasts, the hand Jon had nestled between her legs also stilled. Turning her face to the side and laying one check to the smooth marble top of the balcony, Daenerys spoke calmly to her husband. “I think you’ve teased me long enough.” She watched his eyes travel from her face, down her back, and linger between her spread cheeks. Then she watched him slowly tug at the worn leather laces that held up his breeches, hands trembling. When the laces were finally undone, he worked the fabric down his hips until his cock sprang free. Gripping it in one hand, he pumped it a few times before stepping close to her and sliding the head up and down her aching slit. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath and held it as she awaited the feeling that only being stretch by him evoked.

 

 

Not for the first time in his life, Jon wondered how it was that he’d ended up here. Growing up, he had felt worthless, nothing, sometimes less then nothing. The bastard son of a noble Lord. Now, as a new dawn broke before him, he was preparing to sheath his cock inside the Queen of Westeros, the same woman he called ‘wife’. _The same woman who carries my child._ During the night, as they had clawed and scrambled to get as close to one another as physically possible, he had been sure he’d never again be able to love her slowly. But looking down at her now, like this, he feared he might damage her if he allowed his desperate need for her to steer his actions. Skin as soft and pale as pure silk, body as delicate as a spiders web… what if he were to hurt her in his need for pleasure? Running the tips of his fingers up and down the ridges of her spine, Jon started to speak his mind, just as he always seemed to do when alone with her. “You know, love. I wrapped my hand around my cock and thought of you every night I was away. Sometimes more. Sometimes I couldn’t even wait until I was shielded by darkness!” At that final comment, he laughed, stilling his hands for a moment. “The images I would conjure as I did it… Seven Hells Daenerys, they were sinful. I though of things we’ve done, I imagined things I want to do, to try, some of them I’d never even have the nerve to share with you, if I’m being honest. I pictured it all while my hand pumped away.” Watching her repeatedly press her thighs together, Jon admired her glistening folds, his tongue slipping between his teeth to wet his parched lips. When he started to speak again, he dropped his voice to a creaky whisper, his fingers now caressing the backs of her thighs. “Such a hungry little cunt you have, love. How did it stand being empty while I was away?”

 

 

His words might have sounded harsh to another’s ears, but she heard the tenderness in the words he spoke. _A very Northern way of asking if I’ve missed you._ Smiling to herself, she knew she’d been granted the perfect opportunity to tease him. Her lack of response confirmed he had been sufficiently hooked. “Did the babe stifle your appetite, love? Or did my absence stem your need for me and my cock? Were your fingers enough to keep you satisfied?” Again, she smiled. _You are walking blind into this one, Jon._ Wanting to drag out his quiet uncertainty a little longer, she simply said, “neither,” before looking back at him over her shoulder. “The babe made me more lascivious than ever… and you know as well as I, my want for you never abates, whether you are near or far. My fingers, while at times are capable of much pleasure, can never compare to the feel of your cock filling me.” Seconds passed before she spoke again. “I’ll have you know, love, my… hungry little cunt… as you so kindly put it, was not actually all that empty these months passed,” she spoke evenly, leaving her words hanging. The long silence that followed her admission was broken by his irritated response. “So, how… how did… what exactly do you mean?” Just as she’d predicted, he almost groped for words, trying to make sense of the what she had said. “Don’t tell me you found someone else to satisfy your needs while I’ve been away?” _Ha! Now you are exactly where I want you,_ she mused. Her heart pounded in her chest, thumping against the hard marble top of the balcony she was still bent over. She picked her next words carefully. “Sort of.” Then she watched his blood boil beneath his skin, his face turning pink, then red, then deep purple.

 

 

Still technically in the grips of Winter, Jon had known it would be cold when he’d led his wife out onto the balcony to watch the new day dawn. As expected though, they had quickly moved passed admiring the daybreak, to reacquainting with each other. His excitement had caused his blood to pump furiously hot through his veins, ensuring the cold was scared off. He knew it would likely be the same for her, however he’d have instantly fetched a cloak to warm her had she shown any signs she was succumbing to the biting temperatures. Now though, his head filled with thoughts of another man bedding his wife, another man pleasuring his wife, he had a fire inside him akin the one he sometimes sensed burning inside Rhaegal. Thoughts of her wellbeing combusted in an instant and he readied himself to either fuck the truth from her or turn and walk away and never return. _How could she?_ Luckily, she pierced through his blind rage just in time, her quiet voice travelling on the breeze. “Not someone, love. Never someone. Some _thing_.”

 

 

In the moments that followed, she watched his breathing shift – speeding up, then slowing down, then appear to stop all together. Around them, the air charged until it became almost unbearable. In the distance the sun continued to rise, higher and higher, basking his chest with golden light. Wordlessly, he pulled his breeches back up before hoisting her upright with a firm grip on her shoulders and marching her into their bedroom in the same manner he might a hostage. “Show me,” he demanded from behind her, his deathly quiet voice causing a shiver to travel through her and the slick feeling between her legs to spread down her thighs. “Show me, now, exactly what you mean by some _thing_.” Daenerys turned to look at her husband, hair dishevelled from his long journey, breeches hanging low on his painfully slender frame, eyes wide and anxious, and decided that maybe now wasn’t the best time to tease him like this. Wriggling her shoulder from his grasp, she turned and stepped up to him warily, taking hold of one of his hands before lifted it up and pressing a kiss to his palm. “It’s nothing bad love, in fact… I think you might even… like it.” While she offered up her most open and hopeful smile, his face remained stoic and his response was a clear indication that he was not in the mood to be teased further. “Daenerys, show me what you meant. Now...”

 

 

  
Jon didn’t know what to do with himself. Arms hanging at his sides, fists repeatedly clenching then unclenching, he wiped his sweaty palms against his breeches. Stood opposite each other now, his eyes ached as he suppressed their natural desire to roam his wife’s naked body, displayed before him in all its glory. He used every remaining ounce of strength in his weary body to stay focused on her face, imploring an explanation. _Something?_ _What_ _can_ _that_ _even_ _mean_? He’d walked them as far as the foot of their bed, sheets and furs still strew haphazardly. Now released from his grips, she stood before him looking between him and the mattress, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. “Daenerys. If it is nothing bad, why is it you look so worried?” Releasing her lip, now red raw from being gnawed, he watched swallow nervously. When she still didn’t answer, he raised his brows expectantly. “I,” she began, before stopping again, her gaze flicking towards the set of draws that sat at the side of their bed. Looking back at him, she pulled her bottom lip back between her teeth and just stared at him, eyes wary and unsure.

 

 

  
_Shit! I truly thought he would enjoy the idea of me satisfying my needs while he was away but he just looks angry._ So she stood, her feet rooted to the spot, with no idea of what she should do next. Perhaps showing him was a very bad idea. Any hopes that he’d drop the subject were dashed as he moved passed her, around the bed, bringing with him a cool breeze that caused a shiver to travel up her spine. Daenerys watched him pause before the small set of draws, before reaching out to open the top draw and rifle through its contents. Closing her eyes, she mustered every piece of courage she had within her and forced herself to speak up. “It’s in the third draw,” she breathed out. “Under the silk scarf I was gifted in Meereen.” When the silence became to much to bare, when she finally found the nerve to look over at him, she found him stood upright, the blue Meereenese scarf clutched in one hand, the familiar dark-velvet pouch held in the other. As if sensing her gaze, he turned to face her, their eyes meeting once more. “This it, love?” He whispered, but he might as well have shouted it, the question sounded so loud in the deathly quiet space. Nodding, Daenerys dragged in a shuddering breath. _Well, there’s nothing I can do now, he’s found it._

 

 

Deep purple in colour, appearing to be made of soft velvet, the pouch was adorned with a delicate golden rope that tied the neck tightly shut. Jon slipped two fingers inside and pried it open, then slipped his hand inside and from it pulled a white oblong object. Before he’d laid eyes upon it, Jon had had a pretty good idea what he was going to find. Still, he was not prepared to see it. He had felt it through the fabric that had concealed it. Looking at it now though, made his breath catch in his throat and his eyes dart back to meet his wife’s, desperate to know more, wishing he could hear her thoughts. Still stood in the place he’d left her, her eyes darted between the object he held in his hand and his eyes, as her mouth grouped for words. When she eventually found some, they were as quiet as the breeze on a summer day. “Messandei gave it to me…” she started, then paused briefly before continuing, quickly becoming louder and more clear. “Something she has used with… well... with….” Daenerys watched him turn it around in his hands, inspecting it from all angels, before he looked back up at her. “This is Weirwood. Highly polished… or… varnished even… Something, huh? Does it have a name? This… _thing_?.” Raising his eyes from the white object, back to her, the furrow between Jon’s eyes returned as he waited for her to explain. “It’s an Olisbos,” she said, the smallest hint of a smile at her lips. “I’ve been told women have used them since time began, a way to stay satisfied, while their men were away at war.” His face looked akin to that of a child listening to the rapturous ramblings of a well versed story teller. He looked at her wonderment, eyes wide, brows now so raised they almost touched his hairline. “Or,” she added, stifling a chuckle, “if their lover was terrible and they wanted more than they were given.”

 

 

  
Jon felt himself throb and twitch as blood rushed to fill his shaft in excitement. “And… tell me, love… which one were you? The lonely wife, dreaming of her husbands return? Or, the unsatisfied woman, wishing for a better lover?” Standing before him and taking the smooth oblong from his hand, she looked at it as she answered. “When I was nearly driven mad with missing you, this gave me the type of comfort that I needed. Now you are returned to me, I have no use of it. Come back to bed with me and love me as only you can.” She turned and moved towards the draws, as if to return the intruder to its hiding place. Jon wasn’t finished though and managed to stop her movements with a single, softly spoken question. “Where did you put it?”

 

 

   
Without looking back at him she answered just as quietly as he asked. “Well… one can put it anywhere they please, I suppose.” She felt him move up behind her, the air between them beginning to prickle and vibrate with an almost manic charge. “I asked where _you_ put it, my love. Not where _one_ puts it.” When he trailed a single finger down the crease of her backside and down between her thighs, she gasped. “Here?” He whispered directly into her ear, as he slipped his finger ever so slightly into her cunt, his lips so close she felt them brush her earlobe. Unable to speak, she swallowed and answered with a single nod. Dragging his now-moist digit back along her crease he paused at her back entrance before pressing his finger into her once more. “Here?” He asked again, quieter and more strangled than before. This time when Daenerys gave him her answering nod, he exhaled with such force she jumped slightly in surprise.

 

 

  
Withdrawing his finger from within her, Jon took barely a seconds reprise before instructing her to get onto the bed, back against the pillows, knees bent, legs parted. As she followed his command obediently, he crossed the room, grabbed ahold of the most comfortable looking armchair he could find and noisily dragged it across the floor until it was positioned at the foot of their bed, facing his waiting wife. Settling himself into the seat, he let himself relax against the backrest and spread his thighs wide to try to relieve the pressure between his own legs. Perching one elbow on the armrest, he rested his chin against his hand. “Now… show me how you use it.”

 

 

Jon watched her slip the _thing_ past her lips and into her mouth. He watched her lips stretch around it and realised it was probably the same size as he was. As she moved it in and out, she kept her eyes trained on his, not stopping until the whole thing was slick and wet. When she stopped to run the tip of her tongue around it's bulbous head, it was as if she were doing it to his actual cock. Actively trying not to swallow his own tongue, Jon reached down to loosen the ties of his breeches, the fabric currently holding him prisoner. Pressing herself back against the heap of pillows, she spread her thighs further and raised her knees higher, her glistening folds parting like the petals of a flower. While he prepared himself to watch her slip it straight inside herself, she surprised him by running it up and down her crease, her eyes falling shut as a small moan escaped her. Mesmerised, all he could do was watch and try to keep breathing. “I love it when you do this to me… when you tease me like this… dragging out the moment until we are finally joined.” Her eyes flickered open and met his again. “At first… at first I thought it would be hard to picture you here… doing this… instead of me all alone, but it wasn’t.” Closing her eyes again, she slipped the tip into her entrance, filling Jon with both immense awe and immense jealousy. _It’s_ _like_ _watching_ _another_ _man_ _enter_ _her_. Dragging it in and out of herself, Daenerys seemed lost in another world. Finally unable to bare his bystander role any longer, Jon stood and crawled across the bed towards her, reaching out to still her hand.

 

 

Over the mound of her swollen stomach and between her spread thighs, Daenerys found her husband. _Oh my_ , she thought, _he looks close to combustion._ Removing the now-slick olisbos, she held it out to him, arm trembling. He took it from her without hesitation, then settled on his side alongside her, his head up near her heaving chest. After running the tip of the imposter cock along her crease a few times, he paused at her entrance, before pushing it forward. Just as he did so, he took one engorged nipple between his lips and then Daenerys proceeded to fall apart. Suckling and sliding at the same time, he alternated teeth and tongue at her breast, and speed and depth between her legs. Apparently driven on by her desperate cries, she couldn’t stop herself from calling out and moaning, and muttering affirmations of her love through the air.

 

 

Daenerys thought she might tumble over the edge into unconsciousness, not release. The sensations he was eliciting were so intense, at times she found herself forgetting to breath. Between her legs, Jon moved the wooden shaft with masterful grace, alternating long and deep strokes with short, shallow ones. The angle never the same, nor the pressure. He had always attended to her nipples as they made love, but his new ability to pleasure her so intensely between her legs while his body remained relatively static, meant his hungry mouth at her chest was insistent and unrelenting. His lips, he wrapped around one or other of her nipples while his tongue and teeth took turns driving her wild. And his eyes. _Oh gods, his eyes._ Whenever she built up the energy to lift her head from the pillows to glance down, his wide, deep-brown eyes were there, waiting for her. Feeling all she was feeling, looking into his eyes, knowing he was the culprit, made her soul set on fire.

 

 

  
Without his own intense pleasure clouding his thoughts, Jon found himself able to navigate her pleasure much more masterfully, and also control it. Popping one deep red nipple from his mouth, he took a second to admire his work. Both nubs had darkened even more in colour due to his attention, and he could see faint teeth marks scattered across her bosom. Wanting more, needing to do more, his heartbeat sped up as he planned his next move. On the next long stroke, Jon withdrew the wooden shaft fully, causing her eyes to fly open and fix on his. Smiling up at her, he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of one breast before moving back down the bed towards her parted legs.

 

 

  
Daenerys kept her eyes trained on him, watching as he took in the view of her ravaged cunt. No longer touching her at all, she could now feel her whole body throbbing from his gallant efforts. Watching him closely, she could practically see his mind racing, planning his next trick. Finally he moved to settle himself on his stomach, his head between her spread legs. Laid back as she was, only his mop of onyx curls were visible over her bump. Each second that slipped past where he didn’t reach out for her caused her to tremble more and more with anticipation. Without any warning, she felt cold air blow across her wet flesh, the feeling eliciting a surprised gasp, followed by a long moan from deep within her chest when his fingers parted her tender flesh. Finally, his mouth latched onto her abandoned bud at the apex of her sex. Since he was completely hidden from view, Daenerys allowed her head to fall back against the pillows and await her husbands plans.

 

 

Jon was having the time of his life. When he arrived back to the place they were calling home for now, he had been excited to see his wife, desperate to be close to her and return to some semblance of normality. However, since the previous night, he had found out he would soon be a father, and in turn, been gifted the body stranger. Last night it had been comforting to lay with her once more, her familiar smells and noises bringing him peace. But equally, it had thrilled him to look at her body and it feel new and fresh and exciting, sensitive in different places. Her swollen stomach literally provided him new flesh to explore and run his hands over. Now, Jon felt he’d been gifted another new experience. A chance to please his wife in ways that were not possible before. With his lips wrapped around her silky smooth nub, Jon felt across the sheet until he found the still-slick and still-warm, white, wooden olisbos. Taking hold of it in his right hand, he brought it toward where his mouth was latched onto his wife, and with careful precision, lined it up with her entrance once more.

 

  
As soon as she felt her sensitive flesh begin to stretch again, Daenerys knew what was happening. Too thick and too smooth to be merely his fingers, she could only lie there and feel as Jon buried the olisbos to the hilt. He alternated between holding the wooden shaft deep inside her as he rapidly worked at her clitoris with his mouth, and dragging it in and out of her in long fluid strokes as he gently suckled her and blew cool streams of air across her tender flesh. When she came, he did not let up or move away. Instead, he stayed in place, lips pressed around her throbbing bud, hand ensuring her cunt stayed full, seeming to ride out the wave along with her. She felt like she might tear in two leaving her insides to spill out onto the bed around them. Then she was empty. Her eyes were closed and she felt unable to open them as her body was gently rolled onto its side. Her knees were both raise up until the tops of her thighs grazed the underside of her growing belly. She knew, laying now in this new position, what her husband was about to do. Or at least she hoped. “Yes, Jon,” she breathed out weakly. “Yes... yes, please Jon.”

 

 

Her words spurred him onwards and once he was suitably positioned behind her, Jon reached down and slipped the smooth object back into her cunt, working it in and out, enjoying the tiny little moans that began escaping from her once more. “Are you sure, my love? Are you quite sure?” He asked quietly, leaning over her so he could look at her face when she answered. But she didn’t even open her eyes, nor search him out to ponder, Daenerys merely settled into the mattress and pillows as she sighed out a simple ‘yes’. Needing no more consent than that, Jon pulled the olisbos out of her and dropped it on the bed, then brought his hand up to his mouth. Spitting into his palm, he used it to rub between her parted cheeks before pressing a single finger into her tight tunnel. The resulting moan made him start to porder exactly how she was going to cope with the feel of both his cock and this thing inside her all at once. Removing his finger, he picked up the wooden shaft and proceeded to press it firmly against her until the final, natural resistance relented and allowed the slippery object entry. She seemed to welcome the intrusion and it slipped in much more easily than his own cock had done on previous occasions. Soon, he had it buried all the way to the ornate hilt. Releasing it, he checked that it remained in place, the tug he gave it causing Daenerys to release a moan so desperate and needy he started to become excited about what was to come.

 

 

Looking down at her laid out before him, backside filled with this new thing, but cunt sat vacant and dripping wet, Jon placed a hand on her body as he asked quietly, “do you trust me, love?” The way she nodded her head, desperately, vigorously, told him all he needed to know. He reached out and moved her top leg, the left, forward slightly, giving him more room to manoeuvre between her legs. Then, without wanting to waste anymore time, he spit into his palm once more, took hold of his cock in his left hand and lubricated his entire length, paying particular attention to the tip. _I’ll need to be slick for this to go smoothly._ He ran the head of his cock up and down her drenched slit until he finally settled it directly next to the buried wooden shaft, right at the entrance to her cunt. Pushing just the head of his cock into her opening, he said hoarsely, “you’ll tell me if it gets… too much?” The room was silent. He dared not breath in case he woke and all this was revealed as a dream. He could not hear a single noise coming from his wife either, her body completely still, poised in anticipation. There was nothing left to do but push forward, and he did so slowly, conscious of how it would feel to Daenerys to be filled twice over.

 

 

As soon as he’d started to fill her, she almost told him to stop. It felt like she was being torn apart from the inside out. But as he pulled back slightly and pushed in more, something changed and instead of feeling torn apart she felt wonderfully stretched, and instead of pain, she experience such an intense wave of pleasure she came without any warning. He didn’t move a muscle as she bucked and gasped and groaned through her release, her mind not capable of deciding whether she wanted this to stop altogether or for them to keep pressing forward into the unknown world of this most sinful pleasure. The feeling was unlike anything she’d felt before. Finally deciding, she smacked her hand against the mattress before her, crying out, deep and desperate. “I can’t take another second of this stillness.” Turning to look back at him as she begged. “Please… please can you move!”

 

 

 

Jon had slid into her cunt with relative ease, her arousal generously coating her insides. He was certainly aware of the reduction in space he was allocated. Where previously he had felt snug when buried inside her, now it felt tight and cramped. His cock, not even half way to the hilt, felt so constricted by her channel that he feared he might spill his load before he’d even found himself fully inside her. As his wife’s plea reverberated around the room, Jon continued to press forward until he felt the hilt of the olisbos against his pubic bone. Laying still, he took two measured breaths as he settled himself more comfortably at her back, readying himself to begin. Soon, his hips fell into a steady rhythm, her moans and groans and cries filling the room. He had never known her to be so vocal or seen her act with such wild abandon. At one point, he’d paused to compose himself, only for her to rock herself forward, expose his cock to the open air, then press herself back towards him, engulfing him once more. “Yes!” She’d cried out repeatedly as she's continued to move against him all by herself. Her hands took hold of her breasts and she kneeled and toyed with them while he anchored them together with a firm grip on her hip.

 

 

  
Never in her life had she felt so thoroughly loved and yet stripped so completely bare. She felt trapped by his constant brutal assault, yet it was she who had begged for it, begged for more, cried out for him to keep going even now. Her body felt stretched and tender from his continued movements and from the invader he was keeping trapped inside. _A prisoner._ Each moment that she allowed her mind to rest upon the discomfort was instantly smothered by the feel of his length pushing back into her, causing her to forget any pain there might be. She felt ravished. There was no other way to describe it. Aware of his movements beginning to falter, Daenerys prepared for her husbands climax. She slipped one hand between her legs, her fingers rubbing her swollen nub frantically in the hopes that she could join him as he tumbled over the edge. As his thrusts became more jerky and erratic, she turned to look back at him, revelling in the look of bliss coupled with wild abandon that eclipsed his features. Crying out, shouting out nonsense, Jon fucked her until he’d pumped every last drop of his release into her ruined channel. In the moments following, she became aware of her own body rippling once again. This time when she climaxed, it moved through her like a gentle shiver, her body too exhausted to do much more.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._ 

 

  
Waking suddenly, the room now filled with a muted early-dusk grey light, Jon tried to focus on what had woken him. Quickly realising his wife was not in bed with him, he sat up and scanned the darkening room. From beside him, a quiet giggle broke through the silence, causing him to turn to locate the source of the noise. Standing, covered again by her silken nightgown, Daenerys smiled across at him. “Go back to sleep, my love. Dinner will be here within the hour, then we are expected down to greet the new members of the council.” Settling back against the mattress, as directed, Jon pulled back the covers, silently inviting his wife to come back to bed. Curling up next to him, Daenerys pressed a kiss to his chest and closed her eyes. Jon was just slipping back into sleep when she spoke softly. “It’s back in bottom draw, with the scarf I was gifted in Meereen… if… if you ever want to…” Smiling to himself, Jon let out a contented sigh before responding. “Thank you, love. _When_ I use it again, I will know where to find it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

What does that say about me?

 

 

The small council was no longer all that small. Together, they had decided to include more members to speak for the rest of the people of Westeros than had ever been allowed before. Daenerys had felt proud listening to her husband inform and, at times, correct Tyrion and Varys, who spoke about the wants and needs of those they had known before the Great War. “No My Lords. I’m sorry... but you’re  wrong. I've just been in the Westerlands and let me assure you, Damon Marbrand wishes for his people to survive the winter, not titles for his remaining son nor marriage alliances for his daughters. He wept in front of me as he spoke of the plight of their poor. The dead are piling up in the streets faster than he can get food and clean water to them.” Daenerys may have felt confident discussing the restructuring of the capital, but only Jon could speak for the people he had come to know.

 

 

They talked for hours. They discussed everything. Finally, when she sensed a lull in the conversation, Daenerys decided it was time to address things to come. Clearing her throat, all eyes darted to where she and Jon sat at the head of the large meeting table. The men and women standing around the outskirts of the room hushed their batter and twisted to face them. “My Lords and Ladies, going forward I wish it to be know by all, from The Fingers to Bear Island, and all across the lands, that Nobel families are to hold no banquets in my honour, nor my husbands, until we decree it otherwise. Name days are to be acknowledged but not celebrated. Most in this land don’t even have the luxury of that, having lost so many dear to them during the Great War. We will not allow any family to hold banquets and balls while the rest of the country freezes and starves to death. At our own table, each evening, we will be joined by any who are hungry. It will do us good to hear how things are out there in the real world. My husband and I feel very strongly about the people seeing real change, quickly, and will be the example to you all. Finally,” she started, looking down at Jon and smiling, “we would like to inform you that we will soon be blessed with a child. Both of us hope that as our son or daughter grows up, they will see this country grow and evolve into a fine land they will one day be proud to serve. We hope you will all support us and work together with us to make that hope a realiality.” Leaning down to press a kiss to Jon’s waiting lips, Daenerys couldn’t help but smile as the room erupted into rapturous applause with an undercurrent of agreement to there plans. 

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._ 

 

 

“And then I told them...” Jon said, before he stopped to take a sip of ale, “they were most welcome to come and watch how our own craftsmen design the glass houses. Or, how the farmers use pipes to pump hot water through them to help keep off the cold.” Watching the people around her husband nod along as he spoke, the relative ease in which he responded to their further probing, made Daenerys smile happily to herself. Stood just off to the side, in a darkened alcove, she sipped her diluted wine, allowing the subtle flavours to caress her tongue. “You look... content, You Grace.” Tyrion’s amused voice broke through her thoughts. “In fact, you both do. Jon has smiled quite a number of times this evening. Very unusually, don’t you agree?” That made her laugh and turn towards her faithful Hand. “I’ll have you know I make Jon smile all the time.” The look Tyrion shot her communicated that he knew exactly why it was that Jon smiled when he was with her, and also that he would never speak those words aloud if he wanted to live. Biting her lip, she held his gaze, raised her brows, and shook her head. Oh _if_ _only_ _you_ _knew_ , _Tyrion._   _If_ only _you_ _knew_.

 

 

Jon didn’t know how it was he felt so exhausted again, having spent almost the whole day in bed, but as he scanned the room looking for a hint of silver hair, he had to stifle a yawn. Through the throng of people, kitchen staff, blacksmiths, and soldiers, Davos appeared and instantly appraised him from head to toe. Gently taking hold of him by the elbow, the Onion Knight steered Jon across the hall and through the large wooden doorway that led to his chamber. “Bed, You Grace. You are asleep on you feet.” Turning slowly, Jon regarded the old man and then nodded. “You are right, as usual, Ser.” Moving towards the stairway, Jon added, “tell her Grace... tell her to wake me when she comes to bed, please.” Davos smiled and disappeared back through the door and into the crowd. His memories of fighting in the Great War felt almost pleasurable in comparison to the feat that lay ahead of him. There were almost 300 steps between where he stood now and their chamber, a fact he was growing more and more annoyed about with each painful step he took. About halfway up, he began contemplating sitting on the stones steps, just for a moment, and closing his eyes but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he sat down he would not stand up again for a very long time. When he eventually emerged through the floor of their chamber, the line between sleep and wakefulness was completely blurred. The exertion having left him hot, he slipped from each and every layer that covered him in a daze, then fell, naked, face-first onto their freshly laundered bed.

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

Daenerys slipped quietly passed her sleeping husband, giggling at the view of him fast asleep, totally nude, atop the covers of their bed. _He_ _didn’t_ _even_ _make_ _it_ _under_ _the_ _sheets_? Struggling to undo the fastenings of her heavy gown, she thought about all the small achievements they had made during the course of the evening, the people who had started off wary and withdrawn who ended up in rapturous conversation with Jon or herself about the Crown’s plans to feed the poor during what remained of winter. He spoke to them about the stocks of wheat being shipped from Essos and the fresh greenery growning quickly in great glasshouses across the lands. She spoke about changes in laws and taxes. Sleeping soundly as he was now, he looked so much like a child, and not for the first time did she notice how skinny and undernourished he was. Ready for bed herself, she replayed Davos’ message again - ‘His Grace bid me tell you that he has retired for the evening, but he wishes to be woken when you return...’ While she admired her husbands eagerness, she loved him enough to let him enjoy his much needed slumber, uninterrupted. Dragging a heavy fur from the foot of the bed up and over his bare body, Daenerys took one final look at his taught, rounded behind before it disappeared under the cover. As carefully as she could manage while ever-heavy with child, she climbed onto the mattress next to him and slipped herself between the soft sheets. Casting one final look in his direction before she extinguished the remaining candles, she studied his motionless form. _My love, you really are asleep!_

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._ 

 

 

Jon woke to the sound of hushed female voices nearby. While one was most definitely his wife’s, Jon lay still for a few moments as he tried to catch what they were saying. As if sensing he’d awoken, Daenerys politely excused the other woman and before long, she was stood next to the bed, taking up almost his entire view. _And what a view it is._ “Good afternoon,” she said cheerfully, gazing down at him with mirth in her eyes. “If I hadn’t checked myself, I’d have sworn you were dead, my love.” She kept her eyes on him as he moved to sit up, and didn’t look away while he cracked his neck and rolled his stiffened shoulders, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Afternoon?” He asked her quietly, his voice thick and gravelly from disuse. Daenerys reached out towards him and placed the back of her hand against his forehead, her smile quickly turning to a frown. “You are so hot, Jon. You have a fever, for certain. How do you feel? Tell me… _truthfully_.” His natural response would be to jest with her and she knew it, but for once he didn’t have the energy to drag out this conversation. He responded simply, knowing she would appreciate it. “Truly…? Terrible, love. I feel as if Rangel has dropped me from a great high and then a thousand carts proceeded to ride over me as I lay on the ground.” Then Jon let himself fall back onto the mattress and closed his eyes once more, feeling as though admitting the truth to her had given him leave to do what he wanted. “Maybe if I sleep a little more I will recover?”

 

 

Looking down at him, pale and pasty and horribly skinny, she realised that he really did look quiet unwell. Feeling suddenly very conscious of how much he had exerted himself since he had returned, how little they had slept and how little she had seen him eat, Daenerys turned to go and call for some assistance. Not wanting to abandon him, she turned back to explain where she was going only to find him already fast asleep again. _Oh dear oh dear._ Pulling the sheets up to cover his damp skin, Daenerys bent down and pressed a light kiss to his lips, murmuring a promise that she would return soon with a maester. The room suddenly felt very far away from the heart of the castle and she began to worry about leaving him all alone for too long. Stealing one final glance back at him as she descended the stairs, Daenerys felt bile rise in her throat at the thought of something so insignificant stealing her love again, them both having survived so much.

 

 

 _._._._._._._._._._._._._._._ 

 

 

It took nine days for him to recover. Nine of the longest days of her life. Under the watchful eyes of the finest Maesters she was able to locate in Westeros, Jon was poked and prodded and stuffed with every remedy known to man. She had watched his fever creep dangerously high, then convulsions wreak him. He dispelled all food that passed his lips almost immediately and groaned when she tried desperately to feed him more. The only thing that kept him alive was a fish broth Davos had brought on the eve of the third day. He sat at Jon’s bedside and spoke quietly as he spooned the milky liquid passed his lips. By that point, Jon was too weak to open his eyes or speak but the more broth that he consumed, the more colour that filled his cheeks. By the time they kindly knight left their chambers, Jon was able to whisper a very grateful thank you. From that point on, the Maesters relaxed and all assured her that the sickness would pass.

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._ 

 

 

Returning from a particularly long meeting with Tyrion, Daenerys entered their chambers and was surprised to find their bed empty. _Where is he?_ Stepping off the final stair, Daenerys turned about the room until her eyes fell upon him. Jon was stood in a small pewter bath tub, his feet and ankles submerged in steaming water. As she watched, he bent down and scooped up a jug full of water before tipping it all over himself. The amount that hit the floor around the tub made her laugh out loud, possibly the first laugh that had escaped her lips since the moment she realised he was unwell. Shaking heach droplets of water from his hair, Jon turned to look at her through his dripping locks. “Something funny, love?” Beaming over at him she mirrored his head shake as she answered, “no, not at all.” Walking towards him smirking, she inquired, “just wondering whether you plan to mop the floors after you’ve finished bathing?” That made him smile. And what a glorious sight that was. Turning his body until he was facing her fully, he silently held her gaze until she found she had to look away. “I see you’re feeling a little better,” Daenerys said quickly, hoping to distrat herself from the sight of his naked body.

 

 

 

Watching the flush spread up his wife’s neck and turn her cheeks faintly pink made Jon feel better than any remedy he had been offered in the last few days. _It feels good knowing she_ _is still effected by me, even after all she must have seen while I’ve been unwell._ Suddenly wanting her desperately, but already knowing her likely response, Jon decided to exploit his illness just a little. Rearranging his features into their well practiced, serious demure, he answered her. “You know, my love... I _was_ feeling better, but now I feel really quiet weak again.” The look of concern that crossed her features almost made him feel ashamed of himself, but then she came to him and offered to help with _whatever_ he needed and he suddenly didn’t care. “Well, since you asked, love ... I have not finished scrubbing the dirt and grime of sickness from my body yet...” The look they shared may have travelled between their eyes, but he felt her soul reach out and touch his. Between his legs, he twitched, a reflex he was not able to suppress around her. It was only a tiny movement, but she noticed it and flicked her gaze down towards the offender. “Quite weak, huh? Well, my dearest, let me take care of you then.”

 

 

Having agreed to help full in the knowledge that he was probably putting on a bit of an act, Daenerys decided to let the suspense build before giving him what he wanted. Un-clasping her heavy overcoat, she took her time removing it before discarding it on a nearby railing. As she rolled up the sleeves of her tunic, she looked about the washstand for a bar of soap. “Here?” Jon croaked out. In his hand he held the slick milky bar, already lathered from previous use. Daenerys, however, was stood stockstill, reeling from his choice of word. The feeling those four little letters evoked caused her to press her thighs together as she remembered the last time he had used it. Reaching to take the slippery bar from him, she bent to dip it in the water at his feet as she collected herself. From her crouch, she was mere centermeters away from his rapidly stiffening cock. _Quite_ _weak_ , _huh_?  _Oh, I am going to have fun with this, Jon._ Lathering the bar between her palms until her hands were coated in a thick soapy film, Daenerys pondered where to focus her attentions first. Desperate to touch him, she stood and placed the bar on the washstand, then looked him straight in the eyes. “Where to start, hmmm.” Resting both hands against his chest, she asked him quietly, “here?” When he slowly shook his head ‘no’, she was not able to stifle her laughter. Ignoring him, she began working the soap into every nook and cranny she could reach, paying little attention to the ever-fading scars hidden beneath his chest hairs. Once satisfied, she reached for the soap again, then bent down to lather it up in the milky water before returning to her standing position. “Where next, my darling?” She asked him again, the tips of her fingers brushing the muscular ridges of his abdomen. “Here?”

 

 

He wasn’t afraid to admit that she was doing an excellent job of teasing him, but he was ready for it to stop. Taking ahold of her wrists firmly, he guided her dripping, slippery hands down from his stomach towards his eagerly awaiting shaft. “No,” he answered, aware of how desperate and needy he sounded. “I want your hands _here_.” When she smiled, it was as if every candle in the room shone bighter. She lit up the room. Then he watched her tug her lower lip between her teeth as she dropped her gaze down to where their hands waited, just away from his body. “It doesn’t look all that dirty… maybe I should focus on your back instead? Somewhere you can’t reach by yourself?” When she lifted her eyes back up to meet his, they were filled with mischief. _So this is how you want to play it?_ Jon felt his heart rate spike, a thrill of excitement shooting through him. Nine days of fever dreams and aching muscles, heavy slumber and cold sweats had left him thoroughly bored and in need of a little playful banter. Failing miserably to hide his grin, he lent forward slightly to press a kiss to her equally beaming lips. “So, _soo,_ dirty, my love. Filthy even. You see, I’m feeling quite, _quite_ faint… and I think I maybe need just… a little... helping… hand?” Letting his pathetic voice trail off, he waited for her response.

 

  

Weighing up her options, Daenerys knew that this battle had only one possible outcome seeing as they were both on the same side and wanted the same outcome. _But there are many, many alternative routes there_ , she noted to herself cheerfully. With only a rough outline of what she was planning to do in her head, she looked her husband dead in the eye and asked curiously, “filthy….?” Only after feverish nodding on Jon’s part did she add, “the last place you put your prick was between _my_ legs. What does that say about me?” _Answer that, my dearest._ Rejoicing inside when a sudden choked sound burst from him, Daenerys observed him think for a moment before replying, his voice so thick and ragged it tore through her insides. “That you, my _sweet_ , my _love_ , are totally and utterly and _completely..._ filthy.” Then her hands were lead like a couple of moths to a flame, and wrapped around his erect shaft. He held onto them with his own so she was unable to pull back, even had wanted to. _Like_ _prisoners, but with no will or want of escape._ Using what must have been the last remaining energy he had stored in his weakened body, Jon tugged at her causing her balance to falter slightly as her toes knocked the pewter tub. Mouth to mouth, he breathed between her parted lips, “and I wouldn’t have you any other way,” before sealing the gap between them.

 

 

When she started to work him in her hands, he groaned into their kiss... into her mouth. Letting go of her hands, letting her get to work, Jon concentrated his efforts on worshiping her with his mouth, caressing and teasing just as she did the same between his legs. Soap, it seemed, made the perfect lubricant, and allowed his wife to slide his cock back and forth between her hands relentlessly. For the first time in over a week he felt pleasure and not pain. When she placed the pad to her thumb at the base of his shaft and pressed it smoothly and firmly up the underside, he felt his balls constrict and his cock twitch. When she made to do it a second time, he pulled his mouth from hers and _begged_ her not to, not to end him so soon. The almost-evil smirk she offered him, made more sinister still by her red, roughened lips, would typically have been enough to send him over the edge alone. But he paused to take stock of himself, resting his forehead against hers he let his eyes fall shut and sucked in breath after breath until his climax had retreated far enough into the distance that he felt safe to return to her.

 

 

Daenerys felt divine, a feeling becoming less and less familiar the rounder her stomach became. She knew she was pushing him dangerously close to the edge and reminded herself that she was just as eager not to rush to the finish. _I like having my husband back, virile and vibrant and strong_. Gently taking him back into her grasp, she spoke softly to him, like she might a child. “Would you like to move back to the bed now, my love?” When Jon opened his eyes and met her gaze, nothing could disguise that he was still recovering from a very serious illness. His eyes, red rimmed and heavily set back in his face, had a tiredness barely hidden within. Hoping to lighten the mood a little, she added, “I’ll let you lie back and rest while I worship you with my mouth?” He didn’t even pause, merely pulled away from her and bent down to scoop up a full jug of water before pouring it all over himself. When he stepped out of the tub he took half the water in it with him, then picked up a nearby towel with his right hand and grabbed hold of her with his left. As he lead her towards their bed she watched him rub the flabel cloth around the back of his neck and roughly over his hair. Throwing it in a heap at the foot of the bed, he turned to face her. “Here...?” He asked, beaming up at her. _He is still sopping wet... but, I want him inside me. He is still recovering... but, I want his hands on me. He is still not fully well, I must look after him._

 

 

Jon watched her thoughts travel across her face, saw the little flickers in her brows as she pondered and the twitches that pulled at her lips as she decided what to do. After what felt like an eternity, her somewhat vacant expression refocused, and she looked at him as she gave him her response. “Here will be just fine.” Leaving him for a moment, she retrieved a pillow from the head of the bed and deposited it on the floor between his feet. “Now, sit.” Only after he’d obliged her instruction did she hitch up her skirts and get on her knees. Settled of the floor between his spread thighs he felt, rather than saw, her hands begin to graze up and down his calf muscles. Feather light and maddeningly erotic, she continued tracing her fingertips up and down, holding his gaze. When she let out a rather heavy sigh, it caused his still damp flesh to prickle with the slight chill. When he felt her fingertips brush against the smooth skin at the backs of his knees, a shiver ran though him, the sensation causing his balls to tightened and his cock to sway. That made her smile. When her caresses eventually moved further up his legs, he got to enjoy her alternating between stroking the outsides, tops and insides of his thighs. Never quiet the same pattern, never predictable, the feeling was maddening.  _My wife, through and through._

 

 

By the time Daenerys was ready to pay his favourite appendage some attention, Jon resembled a madman. The room was now a comfortable temperature, having been warmed nicely by the fire all evening. The firelight cast a golden sheen across the side of his face and body, giving a healthy glow to his pale skin. Looking up at him, she wondered momentarily why he‘d yet to make any protests about her delay tactics. As if he could read her thoughts, Jon answered her unspoken query. “I’m in no rush, love. I’ve got nowhere to be, and nothing to do. The Maester who was here just before you arrived back told be I’m still recovering, that I still need to rest, and that I still need _taking_ _care_ _of._ ” Leaning backward ever so slightly and placing his hands on the bed behind him, he smirked down at her. “Most importantly, he told me not to exert myself…” Once the room relaxed back into a comfortable silence, disturbed only by the crackle of burning firewood, Daenerys spoke. “Well then... let me take care of you.” And with that she lent forward and wrapped her lips around his glistening tip.

 

 

Watching her work at him was exhillerating. Knowing that she was doing it _for_ him, for _his_ pleasure, for _his_ release, made his heart thump painfully hard in his chest and his breathing ebb and falter. Better still, was that each and every thing she did, however small, he got to experience twice over. He saw her run the tip of her tongue along the slit in the bulbous head of his shaft while she used her hand to hold him steady. He also _felt_ the smoothness of her tongue-tip as it glided along the shallow, sensitive valley, noticing as she did so that the skin at the top of his cock matched the colour of her tongue. He got to watch both of her hands work in synchronisation as they dragged the skin up and down his cock, revealing then covering it’s swoollen head. He also _felt_ her hands, tightening and relaxing, at the base and at the tip, pushing the blood upwards then pressing it back down. When he saw the head of his cock disappear between her lips, followed by the entire length of his shaft, he forced himself not to look away. Against the base of his cock her soft, red lips rested. Inside her mouth, he could feel the roughened top of her tongue preds against him. And, in what he could only assume was the very depths of her throat, he felt the vibrations in his throbbing tip, as she began to hum, low and steady. Jon slipped his tongue between his teeth and bit down, hard, silently repeating his well used mantra. _Not yet. Not yet. Please… not yet._

 

 

Daenerys knew that holding him deep and making that contented hum drove him to distraction. On the next go, she slid her right hand lower and took ahold of his balls, kneading them together gently in her palm. Before her, Jon’s body stiffened and he groaned. Again, she worked relentlessly until the final seconds, when she pulled away and denied him his release. Watching him almost fall apart, Daenerys smiled. She still had one trick up her sleeve. When she didn’t returned to him as she had before, he dragged his head upright and peered down at her. Performing solely for him, she placed her right index finger into her mouth and sucked at it slowly. Eyes trained on his, she ran the single, slick digit from the tip of his straining shaft to the base, along it’s underside. When she reached his taught sack she didn’t falter, she kept going, tracing her finger over and under it, until she reached the small, smooth place just short or his rear entrance.

 

 

Aside from the still-crackling fire, the only other sound filling the room was the staccato rush and pull of air as he breathed in and out. They’d never ventured here. Well… with him at least. _He looks more terrified and more turned on than I’ve ever seen him before_ , she thought joyously. Then she asked the very same question she’d had to answer just over a week ago. “Do you trust me?” His feverish head nodding made her stomach flutter with excitement and anticipation of what they were about to do. Swallowing felt painful, the lump in her throat making the action almost impossible. She tried again, twice more, hoping she could swallow the nerves that were building inside her. But it was no use.  _I fear I might push him too far with this, take us somewhere we shouldn’t go…_ As if sensing her need for more reassurance, Jon’s face slowly broke into a disarming smile, one that spress through all of his features and filled her with credence. In his eyes she saw love and unwavering trust and it was all she needed to slide her finger inside him.

 

 

As Jon felt his reluctant flesh give way to his wife’s intrusion, he watched her other hand hold him steady as she wrapped her lips around his shaft. Her mouth and tongue and teeth devoted all their time and effort attending to his cock while elsewhere she explored a placed he’d never hoped, never even dreamed, she’d venture. At first, she proceeded with great caution, probing and pressing her digit ever so slightly inside him. But as he became more used it the new feeling and relaxed, she realised the depths of his enjoyment and became more and more daring. When she brushed across a certain spot inside him with the pad of her finger, he found himself involuntarily crying out. Picking up on this instantly, Daenerys then began to softly massage the same spot as she continued to eagerly lick at him from root to tip. He felt almost disappointed when she removed her finger but the feeling was instantly forgotten when she took his entire length into her mouth and sucked at him hungrily. Then, she pushed two fingers into him. He came as she started hum against him, and kept cuming as she pressed against the newfound sweet spot hidden inside him. When his arms collapsed and he fell back against the mattress she finally pulled her mouth away, the warm air chilling almost instantly as it hit his wet flesh. He was silently glad when he felt her remove her fingers more slowly and carefully than she had done his cock, the intense sensations he had just experienced completely overwhelming him.

 

 

After pulling her lips back, revealing inch after inch of his still-engorged length, Daenerys had sucked off and licked up as much mess from him as she could. While most of his milky release had shot straight down her throat, a little still remained on him. She felt him gradually begin to soften in her hands and under her tongue and looked up to find Jon flat on his back but still watching her. Keeping her eyes on his, she moved him from her right hand to her left, cleaning his entire length methodically. Only once she was quite satisfied with her efforts did she stop and, under his intense scrutiny, placed a final, delicate kiss to his deep red tip.

 

 

A moment passed as he looked down his body at her face, so filled with love for him. In the next moment, the air rushed from his lungs and noisily escape his parted lips. Not able to stop himself, not able to stop the words from tumbling from him, Jon lay his head back and covered his face with his hands as he spoke. “I am so in love with you, Daenerys. Sometimes I look at you and I cannot believe you are real… that _this_ is real. I truly cannot.” Rubbing at his eyes, they felt wet but he didn’t care. Scrubbing both hands down his face, he looked up at the beautifully painted ceiling as he added, “I may not have been completely with it these days past, but I knew, in each and every moment throughout, that I was being taken care of… that I was loved. I felt it, always. That is a feeling more powerful than I have ever known.”

 

 

She felt almost awkward, sat facing his lame prick as he spoke to her with such love and reverence. All she could think to do to remedy the situation was move, so she climbed up onto the bed next to him and lay down at his side, pressing as much of her clothed body to as much of his naked one as she could. Removing one of his hands from where it covered his face, she brought it down between them and placed it on her swollen stomach, laying her hand atop his. “You know, my love. This little one has been worrying about you too,” she said softly, hoping to comfort him. “They kicked whenever I left you here and didn’t stop until I was back, close to you again.” Letting a laugh escape at the very truth of her tale, she turned her face up towards his and rested her chin on his chest as she added, “you know, they never make a fuss when we are fucking either, I wonder if it will be the same after they are born?” He looked down at her then and smiled, but did not say anything for a long time. When he did finally speak, what he said made her overflow with happiness. “I can’t wait to meet our child, Daenerys. When I was sick, I had so many fever dreams about it. Some were dreadful... I mixed up stories of the Long Night with a crying babe I could never find. But others… they were… they were just _wonderful_ …” trailing off, he closed his eyes and wrapped his free arm around her before pulled her closer to his side. His other hand remained spread across her bump, resting just above their now sleeping child. “Tell me about them?” She whispered, her voice cracking slightly. So he did. When the recollection of his fever dreams ended, he didn’t stop. He spoke of his hopes and wishes for their child, for their future children, for the life they would share together. He spoke more than he ever had before about what their life would be like. All the way into the night. And when her eyes became heavy and sleep snuck up and tried desperately to steal her away, she held on to him tighter still, not wanting to miss a single word he said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Pass me the bowl

 

 

 

He’d run out of jobs to do. He’d also run out of excuses he could give people who had _very kindly_ suggested he should ‘just go be with’ his wife. Each time he heard that phrase he forced himself to smile and then to thank them, or push out a laugh and say he was “heading that way now.” Inevitable the guilt would seep in and he would begin to head to their chamber but each time he got close, he found himself remembering another highly important task that needed to be addressed imminently instead. So far on just that day alone he had met with all the farmers who kept the livestock in the newly built wooden sheds as well as a selection of the cloth makers who were churning out clothing for the poor, free of charge. He’d also found time to visit the homes of no less than five people who had had dinner at the castle in the past few weeks. He would never admit it out loud, but inside he knew it… he was avoiding his wife. _I know she is being cared for, Missandei is never far from her. And I AM there too, I sleep by her side each night and make sure she eats before I leave in the morning but… but… she is driving me crazy._

 

 

Since Jon had recovered from his own bout of sickness, he and Daenerys had fallen into a new kind of normal. Getting used to the idea of impending fatherhood had been easier than expected and he had dedicated his time and efforts to memorising and exploring each inch of the body that grew his child. It had become his favourite past time. Jon still marvelled at how her gentle swelling stomach now bulged and stretched. But in the last week, things had changed. They were now in the last stages of the pregnancy, and her once ample breasts now hung full and round, perched atop the crest of her stomach. Maesters predicted the birth sometime in the next two weeks. However, with the end now in sight, her constant shifts in mood were making him anxious. Only this morning, she had cornered him as he dressed and began kissing and rubbing his back. But, when he turned to face her, to kiss her too, she had burst into tears and accused him of looking at her differently. After a rambling monologue of anger and frustrations, she had concluded that he must now not be attracted to her. Try as he might, he had not been able to convince her otherwise and eventually had to surrender his efforts calming her down to Messandei, who came to relieve him of his so-called night duty. He had thought on this all day. _Did I look at her with anything less than utter love and devotion?_ _I didn’t think it were possibly… but had I?_

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

If he didn’t know any better, Jon would have sworn down that the Unsullied he passed as he climbed the final flight of stairs to their chamber looked down at him with pity. That made him even more fearful of what he might find. The torches in the stairway that lead up to their chamber had been lit for the evening and as the flames flickered and danced, they cast ominous shadows across the steps before him. _Gods, help me find the strength and courage to navigate the difficult path before me,_ he thought as he looked up towards to opening to their chamber. Moving silently, praying he wouldn’t irritate, surprise, or even possibly wake his wife, Jon began to move upwards, treading as softly as he could. When he neared the top, he slowed his steps, the sound of his wife’s voice carrying through the air to his ears. “Do you think he’ll _like_ it?” Stopping his stride all together, Jon held his breath as he listened carefully. _Is she talking about me?_ The response came from Messandei, calm and assured, as usual. “Your Grace, I’m sure he will be most pleased.” After a beat of silence, they both broke into sweet peals of laughter. The sound instantly brought a smile to his lips and filled him with joy, but was followed close behind by strange melancholy feeling at the thought that he hadn’t made her laugh in days.

 

 

 

Daenerys looked into her friends eyes as their laughter died away. _Is this too much to ask?_ Reading her every thought, as per usual, Messandei held out her hand and raised her brows. “Well?” She said in the matter-of-fact tone Daenerys knew she reserved only for her. “Give it here and lie back.” Knowing that Messandei would never do anything she didn’t feel comfortable with gave Daenerys some reassurance, but still, she couldn’t hand over the blade until she’d heard from the woman’s own lips. “I can call for a handmaid? But I’d like you to stay here with me if someone else does come to do it. It… it doesn’t have to be _you_. I was only jesting that… well… that you are like an extension of me, my right hand so to speak, and that, well… you know… since my own right hand cannot reach then…” Feeling only mildly annoyed at the mirth barely concealed in the eyes that looked back at her, Daenerys let out a small huff of frustration. “Messandei. I _don’t_ expect you to do this. I can find someone else…”

 

 

 

Jon didn’t move a muscle. _What is it that has my wife in such knots?_ Almost afraid to breathe, Jon crept higher, until he was only just concealed by the bannister that surrounded the staircase. “Daenerys. You just spoke of your wish… no, your _need_ to do something to try and make it up to him. You are absolutely incapable to doing _this_ by yourself, and I made a promise to serve you in any way you wished until you no longer have need of me.” When Messandei paused, Jon debated retreating, his curiosity to know what was going on overtaken by a desperate wish not to intrude on a private discussion between friends. But, as he turned to go, his wife spoke again and he stopped without thinking. “My dear friend. There will never come a day when I have _no_ need of you, so never speak those words again.” Following a short pause she continued, “but if you ever mention to anyone how much hair I have _down there_ right now, I’ll never speak a word to you ever again!” As the two women burst into laughter once again, Jon stood frozen. _Did she just say ‘down there’?_

 

 

 

Laying back against the lounger, Daenerys began lifting her skirts and positioning herself as Messandei poured some steaming water from a jug by the fire into a small hand basin. As she walked back over to Daenerys, Messandei looked straight into her eyes and said one word, but it’s all Daenerys needed to hear. “Relax.” The way she lathered up her flesh and pulled the skin taught as she slid the blade across it felt in equal parts as intimate as intercourse and as sterile as one of the many obstetric examinations she’d endured. At no point did Messandei make her feel embarrassed and she found herself feeling more grateful to her friend than ever before. After a few gentle swipes of the blade, Daenerys felt confident enough to speak. “He likes it when I’m bare, well… _almost_ bare. Do you think that is the same with most men?” Glancing up as she stopped to rinse the bland, Messandei smiled. “I have never known a man who didn’t. Though, if I’m honest, I’ve never heard of a man turn away a woman for any reason.” Wiping the soiled blade in a spare piece of cloth, Messandei shrugged, “as long as they can sink themselves into it, I supposed it’ll do!” Daenerys joined in with her friends laughter once again but it quickly turned to a gasp as the hot blade touched her newly exposed flesh. Removing her hands immediately, Messandei looked at her worriedly, “Your Grace? Did I hurt you?”

 

 

 

Jon was going to pass out. He was quite sure of it. _Breathe_! His thoughts seemed to swing like the needle of a pendulum, back and forth between wanting to leave immediately, and revealing himself.  _If I show my face it’ll get to see what they are up to._ His mind flicked from one to another as rapidly as his heart beat in his chest. He felt sickeningly dizzy. He felt ashamed of himself. But more than anything, he felt aroused. _Is Messandei truly shaving my wife… down there?!_ All of a sudden, the young confidents voice began to move as she spoke, coming closer and closer to where Jon was hidden. He froze, looking around him in a panic. _There is absolutely nowhere for me to hide. If I run down the stairs she would both hear and then see me._ In that instant, all he could do was stand his ground and await discovery, and deal with whatever terrible judgements followed. As expected, the young women’s footfalls became ever louder until her silhouette passed by the top of the stone staircase.

 

 

 

As soon as she saw him, Messandei’s eyes widened in surprise and her footsteps faltered. Then she shot a worried glance behind her, he could only assume, towards his wife. _My very exposed wife,_ he thought rather irritably. Jon watched Messandei’s face contort into a slight frown as Daenerys’ curious voice cut through the silence. “Everything alright? You’ve gone very quiet!” Jon pleaded with her silently, not sure of the right thing to do next. _Do I reveal myself? Admit to snooping?_ Messandei looked at him curiously for a moment, as if exploring each avenue in her own mind, also trying to decide. Then she shook her head at him as she responded calmly to his wife, like nothing at all were amiss. “Just stopped to admire the sunset, what a view you have from up here.” Continuing back on her path, Jon watched the young woman fetch a pile of fresh cloths from a small trunk and then walk back across the room, not even glancing his way. _Does she think I should stay? Or has she given me the chance to leave unnoticed? Un chastised?_ The next words she spoke, however, gave him the answer he needed.

 

 

 

“Have you thought any more about what I said earlier? About talking to Jon?” Daenerys lifted her head off the lounger and watched Messandei walk back over to her. Swallowing, she shook her head dismissively as she answered, “I don’t want to talk about it.” But her friend was having none of it. “If Jon we’re here, right now,” she began, “what would you say to him?” Laying back on the lounger, knees still up and spread, Daenerys laughed at the thought. “If my husband were here now, you would not be you doing this task… believe me! That man has an unhealthy possessiveness about my body!” Sharing a smile for a moment, the tension broken with the truth of her statement, and Daenerys relaxed back as Messandei dipped a fresh cloth in the steaming water. Before pressing it against Daenerys’ skin once more though, Messandei questioned her again. “What do you want to say to him Daenerys? What is it you are so afraid to share with him? What has you bursting into floods of tears and spinning into dizzy rages whenever he is around…? And don’t deny it, I’ve seen how you are with him at the moment. You look forward to his return every evening and yet it takes no time at all for your mood to sour when you finally have him near.” She was right of course. And no one knew that better than Daenerys herself. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she didn’t speak again until Messandei had run the hot cloth and blade across every bit of hair-covered flesh between her legs. She didn’t speak until she was quite sure no tears would accompany her words.

 

 

 

The wait was agony but as his wife began to answer Messandei’s question, Jon’s knees gave out and he slowly and silently sank down onto the steps. Her voice sounded hollow, as if void of feeling. “At night, I dream of dying. Almost every night, actually. Not once have I dreamed of surviving the delivery, nor do I get to cradle our newborn babe. Instead, I dream of Jon… clutching this squirming bundle, and I just know in my heart that he hates me for abandoning them.” His heart broke as her words travelled through the air and he realised the truth behind what had been bothering her. His stomach lurched and he felt the blood drain from his face as she continued to admit all the fears she had been living with, the picture she painted becoming more and more vivid with each word she uttered. “How do I admit that to him? He is so unbelievable excited. How can I tear apart his heart so that I might be comforted.” The sob she failed to stifle almost caused him to make his presence known but something stopped him from moving. When she kept on, he wanted to scream at her to shut up, to stop talking, to stop making him think about any of it. “Worst of all, I can offer him no reassurance about the unlikeliness… It could quite easily happen. Women die in childbirth all the time. A queen is no different… I am still a woman, am I not?”

 

 

 

Messandei’s face, already so deeply saddened, turned away from her when she said that, and Daenerys knew that it was because she was right. She felt anger bubble inside. Standing quickly, the lounger chair she had been perched on scraped angrily across the tiled floor. “I mean, God’s! Our own mothers died in child birth! Can you believe it?! Both lost in the exact same way… clutching a newborn babe. It would be _sickeningly_ poetic if I were to spend all this time believing I was incapable of having a family of my own, only to be denied the chance to be part of it when my beautiful, infuriating husband proves me wrong.” Feeling relieved that she had finally spoken her fears out loud to someone, and entirely grateful she hadn’t just stood there crying, Daenerys looked across at her friend, hoping she would provide some great wisdom on the matter. Or at the very least, a remedy to let her sleep, dream free.

 

 

As he stood, then subsequently trudged the last 2 steps up into their bedroom, a silence fell across the room. When his searching eyes finally found those of his wife, the painful racing of his heart slowed and a calmness washed over him. Stood in her nightclothes, he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. _My love_ , he spoke silently, _why have you kept this from me?_ “Messandei,” Jon spoke softly. “Would you mind excusing us, please. I think we need to speak alone.” In his peripherals he watched her head duck slightly, a bow that had been discouraged repeatedly but which she seemed so accustomed to doing that they had come to accept the habit would not easily be broken. He watched her offer a reassuring smile to his slightly frozen wife. As she passed him, he tried to flood his features with all the gratitude he felt for the young woman. They waited as Messandei’s footsteps retreated down the stairs and away from them, the weight of his wife’s fears now weighing heavily on his own shoulders.

 

 

 

 _How much did he hear?_ She thought frantically as her blood pulsed deafeningly loud in her ears. _Maybe he just arrived… heard the end… please, Gods, I hope he didn’t hear me asking Messandei to…_ Daenerys could only stand there and drag in breath after breath under the watchful eyes of her stoic husband. _Say something! Damn you, you Northern fool. Let me out of this misery._ But Jon did something much better. He spoke no words but his actions were enough for now. Raising his arms up and out, he invited her into his embrace and held her as racking sobs shook her. Cathartic. The type of release that was unlike sexual peak or free falling on Drogon’s back. This release was pent up frustration due to stupid irrational thoughts she was not strong enough to dismiss as folly.

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

Seven Hells, his wife could be stubborn. Having had the experience of strong willed sisters growing up, Jon had prided himself on dealing with sometimes irrational women whose way of arguing was akin to poking sleeping bears until they woke. Typically, they then blamed the bear for having the audacity of being angry. Pregnancy and all it entailed was certainly new to him and he’d felt out of his depth since the moment he had found out. Having discovered his presence, Daenerys had wept in his arms as she reiterated everything he had heard her admit to Messandei. Then, as he’d offered up some simple words of comfort, she had turned on him again, lashing out at everything from the way he said her name, to the tone he had used, to the angle of his head as he looked at her. In the end he had frozen, for fear of doing any more damage, only that had then resulted in her storming off towards their bed, and throwing herself down atop the bed spread. It had taken him the length of two large glasses of wine to muster the courage to approach her still from, where he found her fast asleep, her tear stained face still contorted as if in anguish. Sighing to himself, he began to extinguish the candles while at the same time he stripped off his tunic and shirt, kicked off his boots and unfastened the ties of his breeches before climbing nude into their bed, making sure not to disturb her. _I know not to wake sleeping bears,_ Jon mused before taking in a breath, letting it slowly out and promptly falling to sleep.

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

It was pitch black in the room when she awoke. Still in the depths of night, the room was silent. Sleepiness made her feel groggy. She wondered briefly about what had woken her and when nothing immediately came to mind, her thoughts drifted back to the most recent fight she had had with Jon. _Oh Jon, my wonderful Jon. What have you done to deserve me?_ Lying still in the darkness, she could see his hurt, pained face as clear as day in front of her, flinching at her accusations of indifference. Beneath her hands, their baby lay still, safely concealed inside her womb, no doubt sleeping as she herself should be. Suddenly desperate to use the privy, Daenerys hauled herself from between the sheets and plodded, heavy footed across the room to where the chamber pot was kept. The relief she felt as she walked back to their bed seeped into every part of her being. Now with one weight off her shoulders, when she slid back into the warmth of the covers, she moved closer to the unmoving lump in the bed and ran her chilled hands up his back and around his side until they came to rest over the coarse trail of hairs that ran down his stomach and between his legs. He didn’t stir, he didn’t even flinch, which instantly made her realise that her husband was as wide awake as she.

 

 

Jon had woken as soon as shed stirred. Just as he’d done every night since he’d returned. He was terrified that she might need him, and found himself dragged from sleep at even the smallest hint of a sniffle or a sleepy rearrangement of limbs. He had learned very quickly that having a wife that was with child made for very disturbed sleep indeed. _For both of us,_ Jon reminded himself. Staring straight ahead into the immense darkness, Jon decided that this time he would not speak until his wife had, both through fear of saying the wrong thing _again_ and to allow himself time to judge her mood. Her body was radiating heat at his back, the mound of her stomach pressing gently into the middle of his spine. When her lips brushed his shoulder, he couldn’t help but smile into the night. Without thought, he reached down and took hold of her hand before bringing it up to his own lips and pressing a kiss into her open palm. Behind him he felt her whole being relax. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered against his skin. “I can’t… I don’t…uhhh!” She said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m… scared, Jon. I’m so scared and angry. What if I don’t get to meet our child? What if never even hold them?” Releasing her hand, Jon rolled over to face her, his eyes straining to make out her face. Still he didn’t speak.

  

 

Daenerys knew it was her who needed to make amends for her behaviour. He had been kind and patient and wonderful and she had thrown it all back in his face time and again. While she had no excuse, she also felt she had every excuse. Any day now she was about to go through something that had killed her mother. She was about to give birth for the second time, but she had no child to show for the first birth. _I never even got to lay eyes on him_. Those moments where Jon spoke to her of his love for her, his love for their child, his hope for their future, filled her with such pure happiness and intense rage she could not control herself. Telling him all that had made little difference to her earlier but looking calmly into his loving eyes now, she felt the tensions within her thaw slightly. The longer they gazed at each other the lighter she felt, until finally she felt as though an entire conversation had passed between them. Awkwardly shifting her head forward across the pillows, Daenerys covered his mouth with her own, sighing as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her forward, slipping his tongue passed her lips and exploring and caressing her mouth. As he kissed her, he ran his hands down her back and over her backside, taking a handful of her soft flesh and pulling her bottom half as close to his body as possible. Moaning into his mouth, her whole body perched tentatively on the precipice, waiting for him to touch her soft, exposed flesh. But the touch never came.

  

 

Jon used all his will to release her behind and bring his hand up to cup her cheek, breaking their kiss by pulling her lips from his. Looking across into her wide, doe eyes, Jon smiled and decided it was about time to lighten the mood and take both their minds off the angst of the past week. “Now, when I was so rudely eavesdropping earlier… it sounded a little like you asked Messandei to help you with a little problem?” Her face, which had spent too long the evening before contorted in painful thought and anxious discussion, now brightened and her eyes lit up as she figured out the meaning behind his words. Before she could answer, he spoke again. “Do you not consider _me_ willing enough to help you in that area? I have years of experience using a _sharp_ blade to get a job done!” Beaming as he tugged at the coarse hairs along his own jawline, he added, “and maintenance of _this_ takes immense skill.” Smiling at his wife, he felt the tension of the night slip from them. “You didn’t fancy having me spread your legs, soap in one hand, blade in another?” The sound of her bursting into laughter made his insides swell and his heart pound inside his chest.  _I missed hearing that._

  

 

“Jon,” she said when she’d managed to take control of herself once more. “Have you ever spent any time with your face inches from my sex, and not immediately put your mouth on me, or part of yourself _in_ me?” The look on his face told her all she needed to know. “Tell me, my love. Would _you_ trust _me_ between _your_ legs, soap in one hand, blade in another?” Daenerys watched the image she’d elicited begin to work its way into into his thoughts. Knowing it would tip him over the edge, she mused aloud, “I’ve always wondered how much bigger you would look without all that hair to hide behind…” Jon’s reaction was something she would remember for a long time to come. Mouth slack, eyes wide and round as the full moon, her husband struggled to catch hold of both his breath and his words in order to respond. “I…I… I make sure to… well… to trim… you’ve _seen_ me… I use the small shears and… well, to… Gods! I… you’ve… I can’t fucking think of what to even say to that! Daenerys Stormborn, I cant believe you just spoke those words!” Daenerys felt a thrill watching Jon grope for words and try to answer her query. Knowing there was one final thing she could do, that she could say, that would twist the figurative knife and shock him even more, she reached down between them, took hold of him and whispered, “would you let me strip _you_ bare?”

 

 

Jon almost swallowed his tongue. He has always loved finding the flesh between his wife’s legs bare and clean and flushed pink. The thought of his own cock, stripped of the coarse dark cloak that had shrouded it since he was 12 made him twitch and quiver. _Do men even do that? Wouldn’t_ _I just look like a young boy again? Not old enough to grow a beard or have hair between my legs?_ Before he knew it, Jon found himself being rolled onto his back, the covers that had shielded them both pulled back to expose his naked body. The vague silhouette of his wife moving around the room became clearer and clearer with each candle she lit. Then she was back, stood next to the bed staring down at him with mirth in her eyes. “What do you think?” She asked him, flicking her eyes between his eyes and his cock. Jon found he couldn’t form words to answer, so he shrugged his shoulders and waited to see what his evil wife would do next. Her smile made his heart beat painfully fast inside him, nerves and anxiety and arousal all merging into one frantic feeling.

 

 

Daenerys found herself following in the footsteps of Messandei, filling the small basin with hot water from the jug by the fire. The wash-bag with the blades and soap she retrieved from the small table next to the lounger and a untouched pile of fresh cloth she tucked under her arm as she made her way back towards the bed. She chose her least fragrant of soaps, wanting to at least make the ordeal for her husband as pleasant as possible. Placing the bowl down on the side table nearest Jon she kept the cloth and wash-bag with her as she climbed on to her side of the bed and crawled over towards a very wide-eyed Jon. “Can… can I sit up at least?” He choked out, staring up at her. As she watched him haul himself upright and shuffle backwards to rest his back against the pillows and headboard, she thought about the area between his legs. She’d never minded the thicket his prick was typically nestled in but the thought of clearing it away, exposing new flesh for exploration, made her own thighs become slick and slip together. Sat beside him, she retrieved a fresh blade and attached it firmly into an ornate wooden blade handle. “Pass me the bowl,” she ordered quietly, her hand calling for the object until he finally reached out for it, lifting it off the side table and handing it to her.

 

  

His thoughts tripped and fell over one another as she dipped a cloth into the bowl filled with fresh, streaming liquid. _Is this really happening? Am I going to let this happen? Is she really going to… going to…_ Jon couldn’t even finish his thoughts, let alone speak aloud. Almost in a trance, he watched her ring out the excess water, lather the soap between her hand and the cloth, and then reach out for him. She wasted no time lathering the hair all around the base of his shaft and down the crease to his behind until it was thick with white suds. Then she rinsed her hands in the water, picked the blade up off the mattress where it lay and looked over at him. He held his breath, still not sure how he felt about what was happening.

 

 

Daenerys allowed her gaze to drop from his own manic eyes, to his groin, the thought of the task ahead filling her with excitement. The first swipe of the blade made him gasp and flinch, but from the second onwards, he accommodated her entirely. After she finished clearing his base, she tackled his shaft – eliminating the smattering of the little hairs it had. Without asking him to, he raised his knees when she had finished and spread his legs, staring at her with a burning intensely when she peeked up at him. For the first time, she thought she should ask. “There too?” He didn’t move, but something in his eyes said he wanted it. “Are you… sure?” Finally, he moved his head. A fraction of a movement. Up, then down.

 

 

When she finally finished, she rinsed her hands then reached for one of his to pour a few drops of oil into his palm. “Rub this into the skin,” she said, barely concealing her smile. Then she climbed off the bed and started clearing everything away. Jon couldn’t help but marvel at the soft feel of his own skin under his hands. It felt just like hers. Just as soft, just as smooth. His oiled hand slid easily over the bare flesh and he found his own ministrations left him painfully aroused. _What will it feel like when she touches me?_ _Or puts her mouth on me?_ At that final thought, Jon let his head fall back, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to enjoy what he was doing. Continuing to move his hand over himself, Jon didn’t even notice the mattress dip next him and had to stifle the feeling of irritation that briefly passed through him when his movements were suddenly halted. Daenerys pressed her lips against his while she pushed his hands away. “My turn,” she whispered into his mouth.

 

 

 

Half stood, half knelt at the edge of the bed, Daenerys continued to kiss Jon as she began trailing the tips of her fingers up and down his shaft. She stroked and caressed the soft hairless skin all around his groin and then she cupped his taut balls in her palm. She smiled against his lips when he moaned into her mouth. Pulling back ever so slightly, she waited for him to open his eyes before she spoke. “How does it feel?” He swallowed twice before any words escaped from his lips and when they did her heart quickened. “Dany…” he breathed. “I feel… it feels…” but he couldn’t seem to finish. So she slipped a single finger down the crease in his behind and pressed firmly against him until all he could say was “fuck” over and over, until she felt him twitch and stiffen. Then he was the one pushing her away.

 

 

“Not yet, Dany. Not yet, love,” he begged as he gripped her wrist, stopping her from touching him at all. “I’m not ready to finish yet.” Finally, as his head began to clear, he took notice of his wife. She had been within touching distance this whole time, yet he hadn’t even realised she too was completely nude. “When did you lose your nightdress, love?” This made her smile and shrug her shoulders slightly. “I guess it fell off somewhere. Would you like me to go and retrieve it?” Looking up into her face, so full of love for him and so obviously enjoying teasing him, Jon didn’t waste time responding. Instead he ran his free hand up between her legs until he reached the juncture of her thighs. The lips of her mouth parted to release a soft moan just as his fingers parted her folds. As usual, she parted her legs to give him even more room, and he took full advantage, slipping a single digit up inside her slick channel. He worked at her until her chest flushed and her breathing quickened and then he pulled back, bracing for the torrent of abuse he was sure would come his way.

 

  

Daenerys knew why he’d stoped her release. As he’d pleasured her, his prick had been stirring and steadily growing, straining to stand upright once again. When he released her, she reached across him to retrieve a pillow and placed it on the floor next to the bed, lowering herself onto her knees. Looking up into his confused face, she spoke with an unwavering tone, not wanting him to have any chance of saying no. “Before we… well... I want you in my mouth. I want to put my mouth on you.” It took Jon several drawn out moments before he moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed. She wasted no time placing her hands atop his thighs and shifting and manoeuvring him into the exact position she wanted. She moved towards him then, pausing just shy of his pulsing head, and said quietly, “you do look quite a bit bigger.” Then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, “you are not to finish until you are inside my cunt. Do you understand?”

 

 

Looking down between his legs, his beautiful, heavily-pregnant and very naked wife gazing up at him, Jon wondered whether he’d be able to stop himself exploding the very moment her lips touched him. He loved it when she used her mouth to pleasure and to please him. It was unlike anything else he had felt in the world. Knowing how sensitive his newly bare skin was, the thought of her soft lips, her rough tongue, and he hot wet mouth there made a small purl of milky fluid seep like a traitor from his tip. Frustrated, he gritted his teeth together, clenched each of his fists around a wad of sheet fabric and growled out “I promise” just as she ran her tongue along the pulsing head of his cock.

 

 

While it felt no different slipping his cock into the crevice of her mouth, when she took him to the root, her lips met pale soft skin now rather than dark coarse curls. Typically she spent most of her time working at his shaft with her mouth and tongue, her lips and sometimes even her teeth, but now she was drawn to the taut, lean skin around the root of his prick. Skin she had never laid eyes on before tonight, skin her mouth had never felt before. And from the half-words, the grunts and moans escaping Jon, he was enjoying it as much as she was. Knowing she would have to stop soon, there was one final thing she wanted to do. She stopped her movements and pressed a flat hand to his chest, pushing at him as hard as she could until her recognised her intentions. When he was fully reclined she took hold of his cock in one hand and held him flat against his own stomach. Then, without hesitation, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around one of his balls, sucking it into her hungry mouth, marvelling at the feeling of the silky skin and how it moved over the precious pearls it enclosed. Then she did the same to its twin. Beneath her Jon gasped and tensed, then groaned and shivered. Just as he began begging her to stop, he released his grip of the sheets and dug his fingers deep into her hair, gripping it painfully tightly, keeping her mouth close to him. 

 

 

 _I’m going to come,_ he thought desperately. _I’m going to come all over myself instead of inside my beautiful wife._ Keeping ahold of her hair, he pulled her mouth away from him, inwardly laughing at the popping noise her mouth made as she released him. Then he lay still, catching his breath, planning his next move. As the feeling of impending release retreated slowly and his mind cleared, Jon began untangling his hands from her. “Stay where you are,” he breathed out. “Stay there. Don’t move.” Then he hauled himself upright once more and moved off the bed, falling to his knees behind her. Brushing her long silver hair over one shoulder he leaned down and placed a tender kiss to her bare skin. “Up on your knees now, love.” He whispered into her ear. When she didn’t move quick enough, he brought his hand down sharply on her behind. “Now,” he said much more firmly, as he slipped his hands under her behind and began lifting her upward. “And lean forward,” he continued, looking down between them at his throbbing cock and her reddening behind. Once she was settled, her top half resting on the mattress, her bottom raised and ready for him, he lifted up onto his knees and took hold of his cock, guiding himself towards her slick sex.

 

  

Arms and cheek pressed against the mattress, breasts and belly hanging heavy, when Daenerys felt him slip between her folds her breath caught in her throat. He gripped her hips with a quiet force that made her realise he was desperately trying to be gentle with her while obviously wanting to fuck the living daylights out of her. Each drag of his flesh against hers, each press of his solid shaft deep inside her, brought her closer to the wondrous precipice. Just as she could feel herself clench and quiver, he held her tight against him as he sat back on his heels, causing her top half to be pulled away from the mattress. Reaching around her, he placed both hands across her rounded belly and brought her back flush to his damp chest. Nestled inside her, buried to the root, Jon twitched and spurted his release as he rubbed the swollen nub at the apex of her sex. Throwing her head back until it met his shoulder, Daenerys let out several long loud cries, unable to keep what she was feeling hidden.

 

 

Afterwards, he helped her to her feet and back into their bed, not wanted to let go of her, not wanting to lose their newly forged connection. Once she was settled, he followed her earlier footsteps and extinguished all the candles she had lit. Slipping back under the sheets himself, Jon moved in behind her, wrapping one hand around her side and spreading his fingers across the taut flesh. “How is she?” He asked through the darkness, smiling at his own question. “She?” Daenerys replied, curiously. Thinking for a moment before he spoke, Jon wanted to make sure what he said wasn’t going to break the glow of happiness and satisfaction that currently surrounded them. “When… I think about our baby… it's always a girl,” he admitted shyly. “And you are always there, clutching her at your breast, feeding her, just like Lady Stark did to her babes.” Rubbing his lips gently against the silky soft skin of her left shoulder, Jon pressed a kiss to her skin before adding, “I’m sorry if hearing this upsets you love, but I want you to know that I think about it every minute of every day. I can’t wait to meet her… or him. I can’t wait for us to be a family. The three of us. I can’t wait to… to have a family of my own.” And for once, she made no protest. Beneath the blankets, she brought her own hand up to the place their baby lay and covered his hand, sighing quietly before falling fast asleep in his arms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

I take it you’re happy then?

 

 

 

 

 

“Mama!” Hearing that word still made Daenerys smile involuntarily and warmth spread throughout her body. Refusing to answer her daughter’s calls from another room entirely, she awaited the young girl’s arrival. Looking down at her son, she let out a contented sigh. The babe was finally asleep, still firmly latched at her breast. “Oh, my Little Prince,” she whispered to him gently as she popped her nipple from his warm, wet mouth. “I think it’s best if you go to the safety of your bed before your sister disturbs your slumber!” Standing, Daenerys moved smoothly across the room and placed him into his bassinet, smiling to herself as his limp, milk-heavy limbs settled heavily all around him. The slight jostling caused his tiny eyelids to flutter open momentarily before closing once more. Just as she covered him loosely with a blanket, the sound of little stomping feet came into her room. Fixing her dress back into place, she turned to face her daughter.

 

 

Laying her eyes on the little girl, Daenerys found herself struggling to stifle her laughter, knowing it would only make matters worse. Dressed from head to toe in boiled leather and thick fur, her daughter looked hot, flustered and angry. “Mama!” She said again, more insistent and sounding much grumpier than before. “Must I really wear _this_? Is it truly that cold in the North?” Walking away from the bassinet, Daenerys longed to keep at least one of her children calm and quiet for a few moments at the least. “Yes, My Darling. It truly is _that_ cold in the North. You have heard your Father speak of it time and again, yet still you question it? Now,” she said firmly, “lets get this all off of you and have a nice cooling bath. You are looking a little flushed.” Removing the fur-lined hat that had fully covered all of her daughters’ head and most of her face, Daenerys was treated to the sight of her thick black curls, now slightly damp with sweat. “Come,” she prompted. “While your brother is asleep, why don’t we bathe together?” That was enough to bring a smile to the girls red face and distract her long enough for Daenerys to remove the rest of the layers of clothing that still swathed her small frame.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

Nearing their quarters, Jon began to hear the sweet pearls of his daughter’s laughter, a sound he knew so well, intermingled with the gentle chuckles of his wife. The smile that had already spread across his face grew bigger as he got closer. When he found them, they were splashing and frolicking in the raised bathing pool out on their terrace, the sun setting in the distance behind them, the sky a lovely burnt orange colour. While he’d enjoyed their time in The Reach, living closer to the North made him so much more content, and it meant they’d had time to build their own more suitable accommodations. Submerged up to her shoulders and facing away from him, Jon watched from the shadows as his wife shrieked and played with their little girl, allowing her to throw herself off the pool’s hidden ledges and into her open arm. Leaving them to their folly, Jon walked towards their room in search of his son. While his daughter had come into the world loud and ready to make an impact on whomever she met, their son slid in quietly four years later and had fit into their family as if he had always been there. Near their bed, nestled under a blanket, the babe slept as if all were good in the world. Looking down at him, Jon could only agree. He was about three months shy of his name day and Jon already knew that the silver haired Prince was going to cause utter mayhem when released into the Big Wide World. “How the girls will fall at your feet, my boy.” Jon muttered under his breath, marvelling again at how _his_ son, his _true-born_ son, would be the envy or mothers across the land. “Oh, how they will all wish for their daughters to be the one you chose to call ‘wife’” he chuckled quietly.

 

 

When Daenerys announced from the terrace it was time they get out and dried, Jon decided to go to her aide, knowing full well that when their daughter was wet and slippery, she became unimaginably hard to control. Rounding the corner, he was graced with the sight of his wife emerging from the pool and came to a halt as she too paused at the top of the stone steps. The world around them stilled. “ _Gods_ ,” he breathed out, his eyes languishing her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. _This is the woman I get to call ‘wife’_. Some way off, in the distance, he heard a small voice shriek “Papa!” but it was too far away to knock him from his trance. _What have I done to deserve this life?_ Then, the shout came again, louder, and the spell was broken. “Papa! I can swim now, watch me! Watch me swim.” Still transfixed, Jon made his way over to the edge of the raise pool, his eyes trained on Daenerys as she descended the steps and snaked behind him. Around them, the steam in the air swirled gently. “Papa, you’re not looking at me! Watch me! I can swim.” The smile he shared with Daenerys as their little girl continued to throw herself into the deepest part of the pool caused all the blood in his body to pump quickly and efficiently to its favourite place. Finally, _guiltily_ , Jon tore his eyes from his wife and gave his full attention to his daughter, sucking in a calming breath before he spoke. “I was watching you earlier, Little One. You will be a strong swimmer soon, I’m sure of it. Now, out you get, I’m to take you to Missandei for the night. She wishes to spend some special time with you before we journey North.” Jon saw his wife stop beside him and _felt_ her smile but kept his gaze locked on the child, who began to shriek and shout about all the things she would get to do tonight. Inside, Jon could barely contain his own glee about all the thing he would get to do tonight too.

 

 

From a large wooden chest in their room, Daenerys pulled out a tiny vest and soft silk breeches for her daughter to change into for bed. All the while her mind tripped and raced across the possible reasons why her husband had chosen _tonight_ to send their daughter off for the evening. _Does he know what today marks?_ Shaking her head, not wanting to read too much into his actions, she moved about the room, picking up knitted toys and painted books to pack, knowing the more items she could provide Missandei with, the longer she would be able to keep her away. _What a terrible thought! So many years I waited for a child and now I am trying to get rid of her!_ But deep-down, Daenerys couldn’t help but see the joy of having one night where they would not be woken in the depths of the night by tales of monsters or tears and wet sheets. _Tonight, it will be just us..._ Breaking through her quiet thoughts, Jon moved quietly behind her and muttered, “Pack for the babe too. Missandei said she will have them both.” That made her turn and face him, confusion washing over her. “But... he will need _feeding_.” _How could he not know this!_ Moving closer, and keeping his voice low, Jon clarified. “He’ll feed again in an hour or so, no? And then he usually sleeps until dawn. She will bring him back to us then.” Holding his gaze, she counted five deafening heartbeats before he spoke again, slightly cautiously this time. “If you don’t wish for him to go too, he can stay with us... I just thought... well I planned to...” When he gulped, Daenerys felt her insides ignite.

 

 

 

 _He’d pushed too hard, too quickly_. So desperate to make tonight special, he’d been too hasty in his planning and not anticipated she might not _want_ to be parted from the children. _Am I a terrible Father for wanting a night alone with my wife?_ _I can’t remember the last time we…_ But his thoughts stilled, and he began to relax again as a small smile spread slowly across his wife’s features and her eyes began to fill with glee. “What _have_ you got planned, Jon?” Leaning forward just enough to brush his lips across hers, he muttered into her mouth, “Just you wait, love. Just you wait.” Taking the tiny bundle of clothing from her hands, Jon walked back towards their daughter who had been standing very quietly across the room, watching her parents. “Papa? Why must we visit the North?” Kneeling down before her, Jon began to rub the soft bath sheet across her arms and back, her tummy and legs, before shaking out her sleep clothes and awkwardly fitting her still-damp limbs into them. “Because, Little One, we must. The North was my home for many, many years. It’s where my family are from, it’s where they live still, and as Princess of the North, you must learn about their ways and how they live so that when it comes time for you to rule, you will make the right decisions for _them_.” Mussing her hair with the towel, he stood and looked down at her, marvelling at how much of himself he saw reflected in the tiny girl. “One day, if you are blessed with a child of your own, they too will be named Prince or Princess of the North.” Her face wrinkled as she mulled over his words, her brow creasing and crinkling before smoothing out again. “And will we be there very long, Papa?” Jon looked over to his wife before he spoke this time. “No, Little One. Not too long. Your mother and brother will miss us.” The look Daenerys gave him almost broke his heart. It was a sore subject between them, but both had accepted the promise they made the North after their daughter was born. It had been decided that their first child would be named Prince or Princess of the North in way of thanks for their tremendous sacrifice and unwavering protection of the realm. On her twelfth name day, his daughter would become ward of his sister. They had yet to agree on how long she would remain in the North, but for now, Jon wanted to introduce her to life in the North. At five, she was strong enough to make the journey with him. She was also old enough to begin to understand what _duty_ and _honour_ and _sacrifice_ meant.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

Missandei came to them just as it became full dark outside. Knowing the Queens feeding schedule by heart, she had naturally timed her arrival perfectly. The little Prince was bundled groggily into her open arms and she clutched him close to her chest as the young Princess bid her mother and father goodnight. Skipping from their room without so much as a backward glance, she moved down the long stone corridor, followed by her brother, chatting as she went. As her tiny voice became quieter and quieter, the air in the King and Queens chamber began to buzz and hum. A thrill ran through Daenerys’ body, and she realised it was something she hadn’t felt in a very long while. While they had never stopped making love, somehow they stopped making an effort. Jon took a step towards her like a wolf stalking its prey. She could only stand there, immobile, as he got closer and closer. Still in her dressing gown, having not bothered to change following her bath earlier, Jon had her naked in a single tug of the silk tie. Stalking around her body, his fingers danced down her exposed arms then across her stomach. She couldn’t help her insides from fluttering and clenching beneath his hands. “Jon...” she breathed out in desperation the moment he stood before her. “Jon... just _take me_. We will savour this moment later, but for _now_... I need to have you inside me.”

 

 

Jon didn’t need telling twice. He could hear it in her voice, the need. He felt it too. The same level of desperation he felt inside himself. He wanted so much to take his time and slowly enjoy every part of her, but he also knew they had the rest of the night for that. Now, they could let primal need take over, like a raging fire which needed tempering. Lifting her in one swift movement, he marched her to the foot of their bed and flung her down in the centre, pausing only long enough to rip open the laces of his breeches and release his straining cock. As she shuffled up the bed, he merely followed her, not bothering to remove any more of his clothes. Awkwardly, he crawled up the mattress until he was between her spread thighs. Not a word was spoken as he guided himself to her waiting entrance, nor when he spat into his palm and coated his cock. Then he pushed himself up and into her in one fell swoop. Pulling back, now thoroughly coated in her arousal, Jon held her gaze as he plunged into her again, harder and deeper than before. This time, he kept on pressing himself forward until she cried out, until he couldn’t climb any further inside of her. Then he repeated the action. Over and over and over again.

 

 

Jon felt frantic as he moved over her. A drowning man fighting for air. A starved man desperate for just a morsel of food. A husband wanting nothing more than to find his wife and become one with her. Jon kept on driving himself forward until the room filled with her off-beat, cathartic moans. With his gulping, gasping, shuddering breaths. On and on until she started to quiver beneath him. The sensation causing a guttural groan to escape from deep inside of him. At some point she had lifted her legs and wrapped them around his sides but now, as their movements began to falter, she pressed her heels deep into the soft flesh of his arse and tried to keep him buried inside her. Sliding her hands under his shirt and up his back, he sensed the exact moment each of her nails broke through his skin. He felt the ripple of her muscles clutch at his cock as it continued desperately to try and move within her. Then his whole body seized, suddenly and involuntarily, making him rigid as a board. Travelling hot and fast up his shaft and exploding from his tip, he felt his seed spurt inside of her. And then, as soon as he was finished, his whole body became heavy and feeble, as if it had fulfilled its only purpose and was now allowed to rest.

 

 

 

Daenerys hadn’t been so thoroughly fucked in years. _Actually years_! It was true that having children had been the best thing to have ever happened to her, both her dragons long ago and more recently the babes that had grown in her womb. But somewhere along the way, she realised they had forgotten what fun it had been _practicing_ creating life. She had forgotten how much love and passion they felt for each other in moments like this. Her body felt as if it were made of water, as if she had melted into a puddle on the sheets. Lying still beneath the blissful weight of her husband, limbs sprawled flat on the mattress, she found she could only wait and hope that her body would start to feel real again soon. Most of all, she didn’t want to miss the chance to do that all again before the tiny invaders returned. Between her legs was the only part of her which still felt alive, throbbing and pulsing and reminding her with every tremor that he was still buried inside of her, part of her, filling her, making her feel full and whole. As she caught her breath, as her eyes struggled to stay open, she realised that tears were slipping from her eyes and forging tiny rivets all the way down onto the sheets below.

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

Only when she felt him slip from within her did she realise she had fallen asleep. Their chamber was considerably darker now than before. Here and there, candles now burned low. Many had gone out altogether. Sleep had made her feel groggy and she found it hard to keep her eyes open and move her limbs at the same time. Becoming aware of parts of her throbbing, she willed her arms to move, with one hand reaching down between her legs and the other coming up to her breasts.  Her cunt ached pleasantly, her breasts less so. When she moved her hand from her left breast to her right, she winced. _Shit. That does not feel good_. Groaning, she wondered whether her son was awake now too and wanting _her,_ but he hadn’t woken for milk during the night in over a month. Not wishing to look across at her husband, not wanting to admit their night together might be ruined by her own body’s need to nourish their child, she sat up and immediately faced away from him, reaching for the small bowl she kept on her side table. She moved without thought, a familiar action, something she did most nights while he slept. Starting with her left breast, she began squeezing and pressing, allowing the milk to squirt from her and fill the bowl. The relief was instantaneous.

 

 

From the other side of the bed, Jon stopped undressing and watched in the dim light as Daenerys continued to massage the obviously tender flesh of her breast, marvelling at the amount of liquid that spurted out of her with each squeeze. When their daughter was born, Daenerys had fed her until her milk began to dry up, she had never spent a night apart from her. He had often stayed awake when she fed the babes in the night and he would usually be the one to settle them or place them back into their bassinet. But he had not once been awake to watch her rid her body of unwanted milk. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t known this about her and embarrassingly aroused watching the process. Moving methodically to the other breast after a few minutes, when she squeezed it for the first time, he saw her whole body flinch. Trying again, she cried out in pain. Without thought, he moved around the bed and was on her knees at her feet, hands hovering above her thighs. “What is it, my love? Why does it hurt?” Not meeting his eyes at first, she looked both irritated and in a lot of discomfort. He waited for her to speak, knowing well enough by now that time was all she needed. “My... milk. It gets... it can sometimes get a little ... blocked. It’s just... it can be... _uncomfortable_ when it happens.”

 

 

She felt so stupid explaining such a mundane thing to him after two children. These were things she spoke of with Missandei, and if needs be the Maesters or wet nurses. But not her husband. Not _Jon_. He didn’t need to know about cold and hot compresses or cabbage leaves. He didn’t need to know that once, in desperation, she had begged Missandei to help her relieve the agony and that her friend had done just that without thought or question. But his face, so open with wanting to help in any way, finally made her talk, made her share with him this tiny secret of motherhood. Placing her free hand on his check, she was momentarily distracted by the thought of how soft the hair of his beard felt against her palm. She could barely believe it had felt rough against her skin when he’d fucked her earlier. “Now he’s not feeding as much in the night,” she explained gently, shaking away all thoughts of earlier. “I have to try and relieve the... build-up... myself.” She felt him swallow against her palm. “Sometimes... the ducts that release my milk become a little blocked and so I can’t...” His face became even more serious and she knew he wasn’t going to let this go. Practically begging, his voice sounding slightly frantic, he asked, “What can I do? Shall I fetch the Maester?” That made her smile. “Jon. My love. You arranged for both of our children to be watched for the whole night so that we could be _alone_. For the first time in what feels like forever we are alone. Do you really think I wish for a Maester to be called to our chambers to tell me what I already know... a cold compress or a cabbage leaf at my breast?” His serious expression giving way to a curious one, Daenerys was reminded for the thousand time just where her daughter got that look from. “And that’s fixes it?” He asked, soundly slightly baffled. Wondering again, quite how much of ‘motherhood’ she really wished to share with her husband, Daenerys dragged in a long breath before answering. “Well... that’s if it’s a mild case. When it is particularly bad, like now, there are other ways...” She stopped then, wishing she had kept her mouth shut and knowing instantly that her husband would never let this go.

 

 

 

When Daenerys failed continue, Jon had a brief moment of recollection from years ago. An overheard murmur of thanks spoken to Missandei just as he had walked into their chambers. His wife hastily turning away from him and righting her dress. Missandei hurrying from the room with barely a word spoken, her features tinged with pink. When he’d tried to enquire what had happened, Daenerys had practically stormed off in a rage, and she’d refused to speak of the matter again. At the time he felt like he’d just walked in on something very intimate and it took him many days to shake off the feeling. He had that same feeling now as he watched his wife squirm and desperately avoid his gaze. Like pieces falling into a puzzle, Jon began to grasp what Missandei may have done and what he too might be able to do to help. “ _Other ways_... love?” He whispered, cautiously. Something about her posture told him she would never admit aloud what the final ‘remedy’ was, but he did not need words to tell him what he must do. Her face when she turned to look at him said it all. Removing the half-filled bowl from her hands and placing it back on her side table, Jon stood and looked down at her. Perched naked at the edge of the bed, Jon instructed her quietly to lie back. Placing one knee between her slightly parted legs, just on the edge of the bed, he leant forward until he was hovering above her, hands on the mattress beside her. “How... long should it take to... clear?” Swallowing twice before she answered him, her tiny voice cracked. “It didn’t take long... last time.”

 

 

 

Daenerys lay as still as a statue as he began to lean down towards her. When he placed his lips around her taught nipple, she sucked in a sharp breath. At her sides, she wrapped her hands deep into the folds of the bedsheets and held on tight in preparation. As he took the first pull, she felt her eyes roll into the back of her head and he jaw crack as she clenched her teeth tightly together. He paused for what felt like forever before he tried again. The second pull was no better. By the fifth, she was ready to unclench her jaw and scream at him to stop. But then she felt something inside the swollen flesh shift, followed by a sudden give. The next time he sucked hard, she felt the same wondrous rush as when she nursed her children. Like an odd tickle as their little mouths worked at her and fed from her. Only this was not her child, it was the father of her children. Her lover. And as he drank from her, as he soothed the deep ache within, she felt nothing but pure pleasure. Daenerys kept her eyes closed tightly, refusing to look down and watch as he worked, scared of what it would do to her, of what she would think. He took pull after pull until she had nothing more to give, and before she could even utter a word, he moved to the other breast and made sure it too ran dry. When he had finally finished, he moved above her again, face to face with her, panting. The look he had in his eyes made her stomach flip. She began to question all of the moments before this one that she had believed him to be aroused. In this moment, breathless and half-crazed with lust, she knew without a doubt that he was about to ravish her. Jon’s next words escaped in stops and starts, as he tried to catch his breath. “What... do you want... now... love?”

 

 

As the white-golden liquid had slipped down his throat, Jon had felt his shaft become thicker and heavier between his legs. Each time his wife made a noise, tried to stifle a moan or smother a groan, he had twitched and pulsed more. Leaning over her now in the relative darkness of their chamber, his mission accomplished, he wanted nothing more than to devour the rest of her. He wanted to savour her and fulfil her, more than he’d had the chance or willpower to do earlier. More than he’d been able to in a very, very long time. Beneath him, his wife looked suddenly... unsure. She looked slightly hesitant, maybe even... shy. _Shy?! Why should she feel shy?_ When she dragged her bottom lip between her teeth and began to bite at it, Jon felt his brow crease. Entirely confused, he felt himself swallow nervously before murmuring, “what is love? Why have you gone so quiet?” Still, she said nothing. “Is it... what I just did? Did you... did you not... _like it_? Did you not _want_ me to do that?”

 

 

 

That he’d think she hadn’t _liked_ it was what forced her speak. “Jon,” she breathed out, hoping to convey her love and gratitude all in one utterance. “My dear, _dear_ husband. _Not like it?_ Not _want_ you to do that? Not at all. In fact, I feared that if I opened my eyes and saw your mouth wrapped around me, watched you drink from me... I feared it would _ruin_ me. I’m not sure I could have watched our son feed from me ever again without thinking of you, here... tonight. Without remembering what you did... and how it felt. Don’t you _see_.?” Nodding, her husband continued to regard her silently, obviously needing more from her. “You asked me... you asked me what I want  _now_...” Still he said nothing, so she kept going. “I couldn’t answer you because I didn’t know where to start. I still don’t. I want all of you. Everywhere. I want your mouth on every part of me, hungry for me. On my cunt. On my mouth. Back at by breast. I want you fingers inside of me, caressing me, fucking me. But I also want them woven into my hair, pulling at me, keeping me close to you. Your cock... Gods! Your cock, Jon. I would have in my mouth, my cunt... my arse, over and over until I can take no more of you. I want it all, I don’t want to choose. Our children have made me bone-weary, but I don’t want to sleep, not while I have you all to myself. I want to be reminded why we are together at all… because I can’t help myself, because I can’t be without you.”

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

Hours later, as he gently licked and suckled the rock-hard nub at the apex of her sex, Jon stopped and smiled against her smooth flesh. From someway up the bed his wife began muttering strings of incomprehensible words. Even when he strained to try and hear, nothing quite made sense. _You did ask for this, my Queen,_ was all he could think. As the night had stretched on, as they’d continued to evade sleep, he had left her momentarily to light more candles. He had wanted the light to enjoy all that they did. It had also been helpful when she’d suddenly begged and pleaded with him for _more_ , for him to fill her _more_. He had moved quickly to find their old friend, just as desperate for that full feeling it provided. Hiding in the same place as always, he found the velvet pouch in her bedside draws. Now, as he slid the olisbos into her slick channel, he recalled all the fun they had had with it in the months leading up to the birth of their daughter. After that, though, it had lain forgotten, naught but a lost memory. _Why? Why did we stop this?_ Coating the smooth, pale surface of the olisbos in her arousal, when he removed it, he didn’t even pause before pressing it against her rear entrance. “Fuck! I missed this, love! Oh, how I fucking missed this.” He said excitedly between her spread legs as he pressed the object firmly forward, not stopping until she relented, until she surrendered herself to him. Jon moved it in and out of her a few times before he settled it deep inside of her. Leaning down, he pressed a final kiss against her rosy nub, then crawled up her sprawled body, noting as he moved all the deep red marks that dotted her hips and stomach, breasts and chest.  _Well, she asked for my hungry mouth,_ he thought triumphantly. When he saw her face though, her cheeks a deep red colour and streaked with tears, he stopped moving. “Dany?” He said, anxiously. “Are you alright? Is it too much, love? Shall I stop?”

 

 

  

She was in another place entirely, she was sure. Another world. She was exhausted. But she couldn’t sleep. Not now at least. Her body thrummed and pulsed continuously as her husband waited nervously for her answer. _Should he stop? Can I keep going like this?_ But Daenerys knew her answer. It would always be the same where he was concerned. Where _they_ were concerned. Opening her eyes, looking into his, she smiled before she breathed out her response, so quietly she feared he wouldn’t hear her. “Never. Stop.” But he did hear because one at a time, he hooked an arm under each of her knees and lifted her legs up, forcing her to wrap her calves around his back. Then he rested his forehead against the mattress beside her head, lined his cock up with her expectant cunt and slowly plunged himself into her. _Oh_. She had forgotten how it felt to already be so wonderfully stretched and filled, only to be stretched _more_ , filled _more_. Jon worked cautiously, never moving too fast, never pressing forward too much, letting her try to get used to the overwhelming intrusion. She had lost count of the times during the night that her insides had constricted around him, because of him, but she knew it was going to happen again very soon.  

 

 

 

Pausing when he was mostly crammed into her, Jon lifted his head so he could see his wife. The look on Daenerys’ face alone should have been enough to cause him to explode, so full of desire, yearning for _him_. But he had spilled his seed already three times that night and so lucky for her, he had slightly more restraint over his base responses _._ Remaining mostly still, perched together on the precipice, Jon leaned down and pressed his mouth firmly against his wife’s, needed to be connected to her even more intimately than just cock to cunt. It was her tongue that came searching for it’s twin, tangling them together, a dance to try to overpower the other. Engrossed in the show their mouths were engaged in, Jon didn’t even think as he began circling his hips, striving for friction everywhere he could. The movement caused his cock to slip fractionally deeper with each rotation, as well as press against the sides, back and front of her hot channel. Into his mouth, his wife whimpered and moaned, enough to tell him she was enjoying it as much as he. Between rotations, he stopped to sink into her deeper, before retreating again, returning to his measured rotations. Each time he did it, she’d cry out, deep and desperate and so, so needy. The sound was painfully arousing, but also so fraught it began to make him nervous _. Am I hurting her?_

 

 

  

Each time he circled his hips, stroking every part of sensitive engorged flesh inside of her, Daenerys thought she was going to break open and spill her insides across the mattress. At one point, she actually believed it had happened and an all-consuming panic rushed through her. She had broken away from their endless kiss to look down and see for herself, but she was met with the planes of their stomachs, sweaty and glistening in the candle light, continuously coming together and separating, revealing then hiding his cock plunging into her. No guts spilled. Her body was not torn apart. It only felt that way. Reaching up she brought his mouth back against hers, pulled at him so hard she knew her lips would feel bruised come morning. _But it is not morning, it is now. And my lips won’t be the only part of me that feels tender and bruised come sun up._ On and on he went, igniting her, until finally, gloriously, she felt the band that had wound tight inside of her snap, and the sensation of free-falling consume her. Plunged into blackness of her own making, Daenerys screamed out, releasing all the pent-up energy that had been building inside her all night. She screamed into his mouth, until he pulled away, and she kept on crying out as he removed his cock from her spasming cunt. When her arse was empty too, she rolled onto her side and began to cry, needing to keep this release going.

 

 

 

Jon watched his wife curl up on the bed, her laughter and sobs all merging into one. She looked euphoric. He wanted that too. Closing his eyes, he reached down and took hold of himself, flinching when he did, hoping he could bring himself to a quick release. But as he continued to pump away, nothing happened. He felt like he was ready to explode with every pass of his fist but still it never came. Letting out his own frustrated groan, he shook his head and tried again. It took him a while to realise his wife’s cries had subsided and the only noise that filled the room now was his own irate grunts and groans. Peeling open his eyes, he found Daenerys looking down the bed at him, breathing heavily. “I can’t… cum.” Jon spat out angrily through clenched teeth. “You seem unable to help yourself and I can’t… even though I want to.” Speeding up his movements until it actually started to smart slightly, Jon’s eyes desperately roamed her body, roamed his memories, hoping it would give him inspiration for what he needed.

 

 

 

Without thought, Daenerys moved down the bed towards him, reaching out to release his cock from the steel grip of his hand. “Stop it,” she commanded, softly. “Stop, now.” She saw a fleck of rage pass across his eyes, but just as soon as it was there, it was gone. “Will you not let me help you?” she asked quietly. It surprised her slightly when he gritted his teeth and shot back, tersely, “I just spent the last hour balls deep in your cunt and that didn’t do it. What else do you suggest…?” Knowing his words were born of immense frustration and not aimed at her, Daenerys took a calming breath as she thought over her next words. “Won’t you at least let me _try_?” Before her, her husbands tense, angry features relaxed, giving way too much softer ones. Nodding, his shoulders dropped and his whole body slumped forward. “I’m sorry, love. You know I didn’t mean…” But she didn’t let him finish. All she asked was simply, “Do you trust me?”

 

 

 

She’d laid him back on the bed and then disappeared. Coming back to him, she’d wrapped a long strip of cloth over his eyes and around the back of his head, tying it tightly. “Don’t move,” she whispered against his lips, before disappearing again. All Jon could do was lie there and try to make out what she was doing based on the noise she was making. His cock rested heavy against his stomach. Still throbbing painfully, desperate for release. He heard draws open and close, her footsteps pad across their room, coming in and going out. When the bed dipped next to him, he jumped slightly and was rewarded by a soft chuckle. But she never spoke a word. Nearby him came the sound of a cork stopper being removed from a bottle and then, before he’d had any time to prepare, one of his wife’s hands wrapped around his shaft, coating it generously in an oily substance. She barely spent any time on his cock before she moved down to cup and massage his taut balls. Again, she merely stayed long enough at his balls to ensure they were slick before moving again, headed lower still. “Knees up,” she commanded softly, and as he followed her instruction he was hit by the realisation of her intentions. He felt her move then, settling herself between his now spread legs.

 

 

 

They had explored every inch of each other over the years and she knew _this_ was a sure-fire way of bringing her husband the relief he so desperately needed. But she also knew it pushed him right to the edge of his comfort zone. Though, the state he had gotten himself into this evening, she figured a shock might be exactly what he needed to forget himself long enough to cum. Picking up the freshly cleaned olisbos, she wrapped her oiled hand around it and spread the golden liquid up and down until it was thoroughly coated. Looking down at her husband, her eyes moved from his cock, twitching and swollen, down between his slightly spread arse cheeks. _Here goes_ , she thought as she settled herself on her stomach, her head between his spread thighs, her legs practically falling off the end of the bed. Taking a steadying breath, she started to slide the tip of the olisbos down between his now-slick crease.

 

 

Jon reached up behind him and gripped hold of the headboard as soon as he felt his arse cheeks part. He had expected her fingers, but quickly realised the thing demanding entry was not a single narrow digit, it was so much _more_ than that. In his head he began shouting at her to stop, but in reality, the only noise he emitted was a guttural cry of pleasure. The din filled the air around them until his body finally relented and granted entry to the intruder. Then it turned from a shouted groan into a devastated moan. A moan that stopped and started as his mind tried to process what he was feeling. When his wife lifted his pulsing shaft from where it rested on his stomach and wrapped her lips around the head, he knew he was finished. And so, he lay there and allowed her to lead him over the edge into oblivion. As she worked the olisbos in and out of him, her tongue circled and flicked the hyper-sensitive tip of his cock. Her mouth sat ready and waiting to receive his release and when it finally exploded from him, she lapped up every last drop he spilled.

 

 

Afterwards, they lay together, both panting heavily. Their bodies stuck together. Daenerys had crawled up the bed once the last tremors of his climax subsided and his prick had begun to soften in her hands. He’d begged her weakly not to touch the olisbos, to just leave it where it was. He didn’t know if he could bare feeling it move inside him again. She had done as he’d asked and settled herself along his side, ensuring as much of her body was touching his. Just as she began shivering, he reached behind her and took hold of a handful of thick bedding, dragging it across her chilled flesh and then tugging it to cover his own too. As an afterthought she reached up and worked the blindfold off of his eyes, throwing it weakly away. Stroking the side of his face, she smiled to herself. _Finally, he looks sated._ Slowly, she moved her hand over his beard and down his neck, bringing it to rest on his chest. Against her palm, his heartbeat thrummed, the steady rhythm lulling her to sleep before she realised it.

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

The sun was spilling into their bed chamber when the sound of his daughters’ voice woke him from his heavy slumber. Disorientated, Jon sat upright and looked about, blinking hard to try to wake himself up faster. The tiny dark-haired girl bounded into the room and cried with joy when she saw him. “Papa!” Stopping just passed the door, she started to look curiously about the room, which made him do the same. It was a fucking mess. It looked like a small storm had blown through during the night. Beside him, his wife began to stir beneath the pile of throws and, catching a glimpse of her tangled silver locks, the deep purple bite mark on her shoulder and her red, blotchy face, he knew instantly that their daughter couldn’t see her mother this way. When Missandei rounded the corner in a fluster a second later, his son perched on her hip, she did exactly as his daughter had. After surveying the room, her eyes fell on Jon’s no doubt panicked face. Calmly, she reached down and took hold of the little girls’ hand. “Come now, let’s fetch some lunch for your mother and father. Give them a few moments more to wake up.” Not waiting for her decision to be questioned, Missandei lead the confused girl away. Still in shock, Jon could only sit there and stare at they place they had been standing. Though she was walking away, his daughters voice still carried to his ears clear as day. “Did you see Mama and Papa’s room? I am never allowed to leave my room in such a state. And we have been awake for _hours_ now, but they are still in bed! Mama was still asleep I think…”

 

 

Looking back down at his wife, Jon saw she looked as shocked as he felt. _What fucking time is it?_ Groggily, Daenerys asked aloud.“What time is it?” Turning to took through the closest window, Jon could only shrug. “Almost noon? Maybe later?” That made her sit up, the sheets falling away and revealing her naked flesh. “Are they coming back?” She asked him, sounding increasingly panicked. Again, Jon found he could merely shrug. “Love, I was asleep less than two minutes ago. I don’t really know what just happened. I think… I think our daughter just walked into our room, followed by one of our closest friends who was carrying our infant son. But I’m not entirely certain.” Jon surveyed the room once more, absentmindedly shaking his head back and forth as he took in the destruction. In the middle of the rug by the fire lay a pile of abandoned pillows, his wife’s idea at some point during the night. He had been taking her from behind as he usually would, but she decided that perching herself over a wad of pillows would help angle her hips just right so that he’d reach the sweet spot inside her channel she loved so, so much. He had been happy to oblige her request and happier still when she came twice in quick succession in the minutes that followed. The jar of honey that had started the night as an accompaniment to dinner was on the floor too, its sugary stickiness spilled all around it. _Daenerys and honey, what a taste that had been._ Her robe was still over by the door, exactly where he’d discarded it the instant they’d been left alone. His own clothes sat in a pile near their bed. He had carefully removed them followed their first frantic fucking session as he watched Daenerys squeeze milk from her engorged breast. The chair she so often nursed the babes in was on the other side of the room, an idea of his at some point in the night. He’d wanted to sit in a chair and have her ride him and that had been the most comfortable option. They were also ridiculously hot by this point, so he’d picked it up and placed it before the open terrace doors. Oh, how he’d marvelled at her nipples puckering in the breeze and her flushed skin turning into gooseflesh. Jon swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. _What a fucking good night it had been! And what a night of good fucking, too._ Beside him, Daenerys was also taking in the site of the rom.

 

  

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Everything she looked at only served to remind her of the night before. The thought of her daughter finding their room like this made her flush scarlet. “Jon,” she said slowly. “We have to clear this up before they return. You know her, she will ask and ask _and ask_ and I haven’t had enough sleep to come up with a good enough lie to explain all _this_!” That made him laugh. “Well… Missandei said they’d give us a few moments, so…” After the tiniest of pauses, they both leapt naked from the bed. Then, looking across at each other, they both burst out laughing. “You move the chair and grab the pillows!” She commanded, “and I’ll sort our clothes…” Shuffling to the doorway Daenerys grabbed her robe and was half way into it when Jon spoke up from across the room. “You can’t wear just that, love. It doesn’t cover… I won’t cover up all the…” Gesturing at his chest, she looked down and saw her own chest and breasts were covered in a smattering of small red patches and bite marks. “Jon!” She exclaimed loudly, disbelief and irritation mixed into one word. Stopping and careful placing the chair back in its rightful place, he looked over at her sheepishly then muttered quietly. “Sorry, love. I got… carried away.” But she knew him better than that. _He’s not in the least bit sorry!_ Huffing, she decided to revisit this particular conversation later. Picking up the honey jar on her way to her dresser, she screwed the lid back on and deposited it back on the tray of food, trying not to remember what her husband had done with it during the night. _Stop! I must find something that covers this mess._ Settling on a high-necked, long-sleeved, grey cotton gown that she hadn’t worn in many years, she had it up and over her head in and instant. Glancing at Jon in the looking glass as she combed through her tangled locks, she couldn’t help but chuckle as he hopped about, trying to shove each of his legs back into his breeches before ramming his loose shirt into the waist band.

 

 

Catching sight of his now fully-dressed wife reflected in the dresser mirror, comb suspended in mid-air, Jon felt his heart constrict in his chest. Glowing, beaming, and more relaxed than he’d seen her in a shamefully long while, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his own face. Then, in the distance, came the sound of his son cheerfully gurgling and shrieking, followed by his daughter’s chattering. Both of their smiles slipped from their faces as they frantically reexamined the room. He shot across their chamber and grabbed up an arm full of pillows while she ran a damp cloth across the patch of sticky honey on the floor. Finally, they came together at the bed and quickly cleared the tangle of sheets and covers, picking up each in turn and throwing it neatly back over the mattress. When their daughter appeared at the door for the second time that morning, the sight she was met with was much changed. Jon swept the tiny girl up into his arms in a distraction of noise and kisses as Missandei passed the bouncing, dribbling bundle to Daenerys. Though nothing was said, the look the two women shared was not lost on Jon. “Did you have fun last night, my Darling?” Daenerys asked, avoiding Jon’s gaze entirely. Practically vibrating in his arms, Jon couldn’t help but smile as his daughter retold all of her adventures. Finally, making it back to the present, she even included her first entrance into their chamber. “… and then I ran ahead of everyone and found you still asleep! So, we decided to fetch your lunch. We brought you bread and cheese and fruit and some of that yucky drink I don’t like that smells like uncooked bread.” Across from him Daenerys released a sigh of relief as she continued to bounce and jiggle the baby in her arms. Coming to the end of her narrative, the little girl looked between her parents before finishing. “And what did you do while I was gone?”

 

 

 

Jon’s face contorted in pain and panic. His eyes went wide, and she watched him try to swallow numerous times. Her own heart rate began to rise slightly as the silence stretched on. _How could we not have discussed this! Our daughter is the most inquisitive creature I have even known…_ From across the room, their fresh tray of food clutched firmly in her hands, Missandei spoke up calmly. “I told you, Princess. They had very important work to do last night, the kind that sends little girls and boys to sleep. And they needed peace and quiet to do it in.” Depositing the tray on a nearby table, Missandei stood and bowed her head. “Unless you need anything else, I will take my leave.” Daenerys moved across the room to her friend, wrapping her free arm around her and pulling her into a tight embrace, the action only slightly hindered by her squirming son. “Thank you,” she said, feeling such gratitude for the woman. “I must ask though. How did you manage to keep him so happy without feeding him?” Missandei reached up and ran a hand over the baby Prince’s silver locks, smiling sweetly at him. “He woke with the sun and I fed him some soft oats. He enjoyed them greatly and it seems to have keep him full and happy all morning.” Looking in wonder at Missandei, Daenerys lent forward and pressed a soft kiss to her check. “You are too good to us, my dear, dear friend. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

  

 

 

With his daughter sat perched on one knee, Jon began inhaling chunks of cheese and bread, washing it down with cold ale, as his wife bid farewell to Missandei. As the young woman turned to leave, he mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to her, hoping she could see just how grateful he was. As Daenerys joined them at the table, settling the babe in the crook of her arm, he looked across at her and said evenly, “I was in the High Septon’s chamber yesterday, flicking through his accounts of the Great War and I came across an interesting page.” When her brow lifted in interest, he went on. “It read ‘Queen Daenerys set sail for White Harbour on this mornings tide with… Jon Snow, _Former_ King in the North. They should reach Winterfell within the month.’” Pausing, he took another, measured breath. “It was dated exactly six years ago, _yesterday_.” The smile that spread across her face made him fill with warmth and his cheeks flush. “I wondered why you’d chosen last night for…” Remembering their daughter and her ever inquisitive ears, she finished with, “…our important _meeting_.” From his knee, the Princess looked back and forth between her parents a few times before asking, “ _who_ is Jon _Snow_?” That made them both laugh. Turning her in his arms, Jon looked down into his daughters expectant eyes and said with a smile, “ _l’m_ Jon Snow, Little One!” Obviously still confused by the matter, she kept on. “But I’ve never heard _anyone_ call you Jon _Snow!_ ” Looking back over at his wife, they shared one of their looks. A look that asked, _“do we tell her now?”_ Smiling back at him, Daenerys gave a tiny shrug, a silent, ‘ _its up to you’._ Jon wasn’t ashamed of his past, he was proud of the life he’d lived. But something about discussing bastards being raised in shame with his _little girl_ made him pause. _She should probably know this before we head North…_ Taking in a steadying breath, Jon looked down at his daughter and began with the simplest part. “Well, Little One. _Snow_ is the name given to a babe born out of wedlock in the North…”

 

 

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

 

 

Brushing the dark locks off the sleeping girl’s forehead, Daenerys lent down and placed a kiss against the damp flesh. _Gods! It’s hot tonight. Summer is well on its way._ Walking back to her own chamber, she found Jon and their son, stood near the open doors to the terrace. Moving up beside them, she snaked an arm around her husband’s waist as he moved to wrap and arm around her, tucking her tightly into his side. Beneath her dress, her breasts felt heavy with milk and she knew she’d need to feed their son before he was put to sleep for the night. But stood in this moment, peace and quite surrounding them, she couldn’t bare to move. “She took it… well, don’t you think?” Jon asked quietly. Beneath her aching breast, her heart squeezed. “And why would she not, Jon? You are her father and nothing that you told her today changes that. Jon _Snow_ achieved great things, things no one else could have. Jon _Snow_ made the impossible happen.” Turning in his arms so she could look at him properly. “Never forget that I fell in love with Jon _Snow_.” That made him smile. Following the _brief_ history lesson, which had ended up lasting most of the rest of the day, their daughter had wandered about their chambers quietly, contemplating all she’d been told. The excitement of the previous night forgotten somewhat, both Daenerys and Jon had tried to be there to answer anymore of the little girls’ questions. It was complicated, they both had accepted that. But it was also their life, and they had sacrificed a lot just to _live_ it, just to bring her into it. Hoping not to dwell on the matter any longer, Daenerys moved away, over to her dresser to change into a lighter shift.

 

 

Jon forced his thoughts away from memories of his childhood and instead tried to focus on his wife. _Much better._ She slipped from the concealing dark gown to something much more to his liking: white, silk, and revealing much more of her flawless skin. He was shaken from his trance somewhat when she approached him and plucked their son from his arms. He then followed her over to the collection of armchairs and chose one next to her as she settled down to nurse. Surprisingly, watching his son suckle hungrily at his wife’s breast, he felt the act held no resemblance to his own hungry mouth on her the night before. Instead, the act filled him with the usual feeling of happiness that _his_ son was blessed to have a mother. Jon would do anything to make sure his children knew what it felt like to be entirely loved and wanted. Watching Daenerys move the babe to the other breast, Jon sat back in his armchair and continued to enjoy the scene in front of him. Knowing there might be no better, no quieter, time than now to discuss this, the words escaped Jon’s lips before he could stop himself. “Let’s have another one.”

 

 

They’d sat in silence as their son finished feeding. He hadn’t said another word to her, and she had yet to answer him. Not because she didn’t know what to say. She knew her answer. Unlatching the now-sleeping babe, she held him out to Jon, who moved immediately to take him from her and place him into his bassinet. Standing, stretching, she watched him lean over their son and tuck him in, muttering words of love as he settled him back to sleep. When he turned to face her, she finally spoke. “Jon… I haven’t had my moon blood for three months now. I… I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to last night. I thought… I know you love them, but I thought… you might… not want _another_ quite so soon….” Before she knew it, she was wrapped in his arms, being crushed tightly against his chest. “I take it you’re happy then?” She finally laughed out, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. Pulling back, Jon rested his forehead carefully against hers and stared so deep into her eyes she feared he’d see right to her soul. He weaved his hands deep into her hair as he grasped for words, then finally, wordlessly, nodded.  

 

 

 

 ________________________________________________

 

 

**Notes:**

So there we have it guys. I think I'm done. The long night is almost over and so I thought I'd give you one final, long-ass chapter. I hope you enjoy it. My plan was to leave you with something you could imagine mostly as your own. Where they end up, who lives and dies, their children's names. None of it I could guess right so I decided to stick with one basic storyline and that was that the two of them lived and were able to have a life together. Come April / May, you may want to revisit to bring you joy as who knows what Season 8 will bring us.

I've had so much fun thinking up a smut-filled life for these two. Thanks for reading :) And thanks to every single person who wrote a comment, without them I wouldn't have continued past chapter 1. Please let me know what your favourite bit was and if you fancy it, any one-shot ideas. I may find myself missing them soon...

 

 


End file.
